


Shapechangers in Winter

by kyrilu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst and Humor, Animal Transformation, Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, References to Norse Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of simply attacking, the frost giants that invade Asgard turn Odin, Loki, and Thor into animals--an eagle, fox, and bear respectively.  The three gods are banished to Earth where they meet Tony Stark.  With the looming threat of a Jotun-inflicted Ice Age, Tony agrees to help the Norse gods take back Asgard.  What happens is a realm-hopping adventure featuring daddy issues, near death situations, god+human friendships, and seal breakfasts.</p><p>A fusion with Neil Gaiman’s <i>Odd and the Frost Giants.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the snow empties itself down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Frostiron Bang.
> 
> Iron Man 2 + Thor fusion with Neil Gaiman’s Odd and the Frost Giants + Norse mythology in general. I do not own any of these works; I’ve also taken a lot of creative license/completely eschewed the morals of the latter two. The fic and chapter titles are from a poem by Margaret Atwood.
> 
> No knowledge beside MCU is needed. This fic contains hints of canonical Pepper/Tony.
> 
> Warnings: Animal hunting, canon-typical violence, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, choose not to warn.
> 
> Much thanks to wrecked_anon, chaperoned, and Ratatoeskr. :)
> 
> Fanmix by wrecked_anon is [here](http://wrecked-anon.tumblr.com/post/60761836725/the-stars-are-different-here-a-fanmix-for%20). And her fanart piece is [here.](http://wrecked-anon.tumblr.com/post/60821333765/second-bang-piece-for-kyrilus-fic-shapechangers)

**fylgja**

noun | _pronunciation_ /ˈfɪʎtʃa/ | _plural_ fylgjur.

 _Old Norse_ : ‘one who accompanies.’

1\. consequence.

2\. companionship.

3\. a supernatural creature which accompanies a person in connection to their fate or fortune. Fylgjur usually appear in the form of an animal.

 

* * *

 

Loki stumbled into a world of gray, the smell of the sea ringing sharply in his nose. His senses were overloaded with touch and smell and hearing, and he was afraid for a moment that he couldn’t _speak._ He nearly tripped over a stone, his hands--no, his paws--scrabbling ineffectually on the ground. A rising sense of panic surged within him, _what is happening? I didn’t know_ and again: _I cannot talk._

But he eventually found his voice. “Thor,” he tried. “Father.”

He heard a grunt a few feet ahead of him.

Loki could smell his brother, a scent that was warm and wild and heavy, and he followed it. Falling snow dotted his fur coat as he walked, but he wasn’t cold.

“Brother,” a bear said. Thor. Lying on the ground, his blue eyes half-shut. He had been wounded in battle, stabbed by one of the ice-formed Jotun weapons. But he opened his eyes wider upon recognizing Loki by his eyes.

“We’re in Midgard,” Loki told him.

He pushed his nose into Thor’s foreleg, gently trying to examine the damage, and Thor let him. Pieces of the weapon still remained there, and it smelled terrible--blood, dead skin, matted fur. Loki attempted to conjure healing magic, but nothing happened. He tried again, his paw pressing so hard on Thor’s wound that his brother winced.

His magic didn’t work.

“I am an animal,” Thor whispered in a sort of awe, jolting Loki out of his thoughts. “And you are a fox.”

“We all are,” Loki said, under his breath. He cast a look around. “Where is Father?”

“There,” Thor said.

An eagle was standing on a rock, his eyes glazed over, utterly still.

 _He is confused. Disoriented,_ Loki thought, but finally the eagle twitched, ruffled a feather. Good. He was fine.

“We must tend to your wound,” Loki said, returning to the urgent matter at hand. “Can you stand?”

Thor hauled one leg upward, swaying, but he could not retain balance. He crumpled back onto the ground, his breath panting and frustrated, his weight bringing up snow and dirt. “I cannot.”

“I cannot heal you,” Loki confessed. “As a fox...I believe my magic has been stifled. I can still feel power within me, but I cannot quite muster it.”

“That does not bode well,” Thor said gravely, once again a heap of fur, sprawled and bloody. His voice was steady, but his injury was obviously affecting him. His usual front was in place--brave Thor Odinson, to-be crowned king, hero, warrior.

The bitterness in Loki tugged at him, jagged and whispering, but he had no idea what to do about it now, with his plan in pieces and the realms besieged by cold.

He peered at the surroundings, squinting through the drifts of snow. “I will seek assistance,” he said, and Thor made a noise of affirmation.

Loki was certain that he could see a dwelling nearby. Bare glimpses of the roof and windows, where with luck, a mortal lived.

He headed straight toward it, and as he walked, he could think with a little more clarity. His brother and his father must not know--what he did, how he had felt, the gateway at his fingertips and desperate satisfaction sinking into his bones.

 _Is that not what kings do?_ he reasoned. _They do ugly things to achieve peace._

The resolve strengthened in his heart. There was still more he had to do.

(He tried not to remember the warmth of Thor’s bear body. It recalled to him their childhood: two boys that snuck out of the nursery to Ida--the green fields where warriors trained and played games on golden chessboards--and watched, curled around each other.)

 

* * *

 

Tony woke up with fame on his tongue.

Well, his newfound I-am-Iron-Man-fame, not your usual Tony Stark infamy. Life was technically good, although that didn’t mean that he hadn’t woken up goddamned tired from working on a potential replacement for his palladium core, or goddamned hungry from forgetting to eat dinner yesterday, or goddamned starved for caffeine to be in his system _now._

He signaled to one of the bots to take care of the last two problems, settling on one of his couches in a contented sprawl. His Malibu house was a comfortable although temporary escape from being stuck in Stark Tower with all its yawn-inducing meetings. Pepper was managing business back in New York for him; Tony frowned a little--he missed her like hell--but he pushed the thought from his mind, crunching on a piece of browned toast.

“Hey, JARVIS, show me what’s up, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thanks.”

The screens panned out in front of him. Stark Expo was coming up, his old man’s tech strip show; Senator Stern was arranging for a hearing. Tony flicked his middle finger at the bastard, and wanted to laugh at the weird dichotomy: _gotta strut my stuff at the Expo, gotta keep it to myself from Uncle Sam._

Tony wiped the bread crumbs from his mouth and took a swig of his coffee mug to wash them down. He asked JARVIS, and was surprised how low his voice came out: “Still haven’t found a palladium alternative?”

“No, sir. Since none of the traditional elements have been a match, I’m cross-referencing possible compounds. My progress is slow going.”

“Pessimistic of you, buddy,” Tony said. “Give me good news next time, why won’t you?”

“I’ll try, sir,” JARVIS replied dryly.

Tony’s gaze moved from the flickering displays to his chest. Through his thin white t-shirt, he saw that the arc reactor’s light was dim. And maybe it was his imagination, but there was something faintly purple on his skin, showing through the shirt’s fabric. Branching lines starting to lengthen.

He pricked his finger, checked his blood toxicity. 16%. He let out a noise like a growl, and somehow he restrained himself from shattering his mug against the wall. Instead he left it out on a side table--without a coaster, so sue him, this was his mansion--and returned to the workshop, where his suits awaited him.

He set to start a simple task, torquing bolts with a wretch, and watched an ancient Stark Expo advertisement projected on one of the walls.

‘A dream of tomorrow.’ God, that was so Disneyland. Tony snorted softly, but he knew that he was going to play it anyway at the Expo.

“Shut it off,” he told JARVIS when it was over. His father was in the commercial, for a minute maybe, and the sight of his face sat unhappily at the bottom of Tony’s stomach. Wonderful; self-pity and daddy issues--he should have gotten over that crap years ago.

He should have gotten over his mother, too, but the charity he named after her was still going strong. He could still remember the way she used to hug him: she would sling one arm over him, and then the other, gripping him tightly. Tony closed his eyes, opened them.

“Tell Pepper I’m going to New York,” Tony said, packing away a suit into a metal case. On second thought, he added several palladium core chips, for all the damage they might do.

He turned, and his eyes found snow pattering against a narrow window pane.

_What the fuck?_

It was April. He was in Malibu, where it was usually sunny and there was barely any rain at all. Sure, June had its gloomy days, but this was _bizarre._ He hadn’t even noticed the temperature dropping until now. He shivered, but it wasn’t that freezing. JARVIS must have adjusted the thermostat.

“JARVIS...” he began.

“This isn’t an isolated event, sir,” the A.I. responded. JARVIS brought up screens of panicked news reporters, scientists, footage of snowstorms goddamned everywhere. No matter what side of the equator you were on; no matter which hemisphere you lived in. “It’s snowing all across the world.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tony muttered. Still clutching onto the case with his suit, he ran, snagging a jacket to wear before he found himself outside. He skidded through the doorway, nearly slipping across the newly fallen snow.

He wasn’t crazy. The clouds were heavy, and it looked like this was going to be a long, cold night.

There was no way he could get on a plane today; worse than that, a lot of the world must be in utter chaos, because seriously, what the hell is this shit?

The cold hit his bare face. Tony sucked in a breath. He had to call Pepper and Rhodey; or maybe he could put on his suit and make his way to New York. But then again: he remembered soaring up toward the sky, the frost making his suit shut down. He had added some precautions so that wouldn’t happen again, but it probably wasn’t enough for a full-fledged snowstorm.

That was when he saw the fox.

It had a red-orange coat. When it padded toward him, its steps were graceful, leaving faint paw-shaped indentations in its wake. The fox made a low sound to Tony, its green eyes bright against the suddenly-white world.

Okay.

This just got weirder.

In his head, he repeated his previous point: he was in _Malibu._ No snow, no foxes...what was going on? Tony backed away from the fox, retreating to his mansion’s door. His ass hit the doorknob; he slowly stretched his hand backwards to let himself into the house.

“Please don’t bite me,” he said under his breath. “Or claw me, or lunge at me, or whatever.”

He was not going to don his suit and kick the animal’s ass, because that was immature and, you know, animal abuse. So what was he supposed to do anyway? No sudden movement, right? That wasn’t too hard, but of course the fox continued its stride.

The fox crept along the winding pathway toward him. Their eyes were locked in a pseudo-staring contest for several seconds. Neither of them blinked.

Abruptly, the fox dipped its head in a downward motion like a nod, twitching its tail. Pointing toward the beach, where rocks were scattered all around. The greenery and the sand and the ocean were mixing with the snow; it was a trippy sight.

If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say that the fox wanted him to go over there.

Curiosity overwhelmed his common sense. He was Tony Stark, of course he didn’t know better. So he let the fox lead him across the rocks. The fox darted nimbly through the rough landscape, while Tony stumbled, trying not to fall. He still held onto the silver case containing his Iron Man suit--it might come in handy?--but he struggled with the weight of it. After a few minutes, he felt numbness spreading on his exposed skin--his face and hands. Frostbite, he better not be getting frostbite...

Pepper and Rhodey were probably attempting to call him now. They were most likely worried about him, all by himself, stuck on the other side of the country...Tony exhaled sharply, wishing that he had bothered to contact them more. It was just: the palladium issue had distracted him weeks on end, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the poison in his heart and veins. What could him tell them about _that_?

_Hey, Pep, hey, Rhodey, I think I might possibly maybe be dying. You know, from the thing in my heart that keeps me alive. Isn’t that really something?_

A bird let out a cry from overhead. Tony turned his head up, his eyes catching dark brown wings and hints of gold. The bird hovered amidst swirling snowflakes. An eagle. Pretty damned big, just flying in circles, as if it was waiting for something.

The fox had stopped walking. It stood beside a lump on the ground.

“Whaddya got for me?” he asked, squinting at the huge thing, wondering if the fox was bringing him prey or whatever...holy shit. It was a bear; there was blood on one of its forelegs. It whined mournfully, twitching with pain.

The fox looked at him expectantly.

 _Great_ , Tony thought. _Just great._ He was in some sort of zoo freak show. Maybe they had escaped from a circus?

“Look. Fox, vixen, whichever you are,” he said. “Whatever Doctor Dolittle shit you want me to do, I’m out. If you haven’t noticed, there’s been a crazy climate change.”

The fox bared its teeth.

Tony blinked. “Are you going to stop being threatening if I tell you that I have a first-aid kit in this case here?”

Because he did, actually. He had never used it before, but JARVIS had told him a kit might be useful to pack.

Apparently that was the right question. The fox’s bristling stilled, and it stepped aside to give Tony access to the bear. This was _insane_ \--but some strange instinct told him to help the pitiful thing. Being badly wounded and being far away from home--Tony knew for a fact that bears like these didn’t live in California any more, never mind what the flag told you--he got it. It sucked. And if the bear and fox got any ideas...well, he trusted himself to be able to whip out one of his wrist gauntlets and fire a repulsor ray fast enough.

“I’m no veterinarian,” he warned the prone creature. But the bear only looked at him with hazy blue eyes, so Tony knelt over it. It looked like the bear’s paw was pierced with...a shard of an icicle? It was melting, so Tony was able to coax the fragment out, soliciting a groan from the bear.

“Sorry,” Tony said. He patted the bear’s flank and set to work. He could see that the bear was still bleeding, shades of red within golden fur, so he started to staunch the bleeding with a piece of dressing. After a few moments, it looked like the bleeding had slowed down. Good. Tony wrapped a bandage around the dressing, keeping pressure, muttering what could be comforting nonsense out loud.

“There you go, big guy,” he said.

The fox lingered behind Tony during the whole process--wary, Tony thought.

Was there anything else he had to do? Were bears like people?

“It looks like he lost a lot of blood,” Tony told the fox (wait, was he talking to the fox? and why was the bear a _he_ now?). “I think he needs a blanket or something--body temp goes down after that happens, dunno if that fur might help him or not. Or he might go into shock, also making him colder? I’m not sure if it’s the same for bears.” He frowned, trying to wrack his brain for whatever sparse medical knowledge he possessed.

The fox was actually listening to him, because as if prompted, it extended a paw onto the ground, where driftwood caught fire.

“Thanks,” Tony said, boggling at the flames, which somehow were able to sustain themselves in the snow, strong and warm.

A magic wizard fox!

This had to be the product of some wacked-out dream; it _had_ to be. Tony did feel tired, after all. The combination of lacking sleep and weariness of his climb. The heat was comfortable; he felt himself dropping off into a doze, one of his hands buried in the bear’s fur. The sound of the eagle descending to join them echoed in his ears--

He slept, feeling the fox press against his side.

He woke to voices.

“Thank you for the fire, brother.” This voice was deep and rumbling, coming from Tony’s left side.

“You’re welcome,” returned another voice. Tony’s right side. “I cannot use much of my magic in this form, unfortunately, but hopefully this is enough for the present. Does your wound fare better?”

“Yes. Thanks to this mortal, yes.” A sigh. “We must find a way to return and to restore ourselves. Those nefarious Jotnar have brought about this blasted winter. My coronation, my moment of triumph...they ruined it. I must retrieve Mjolnir. The Jotnar _must_ be stopped.”

“Indeed.”

Silence, as if the first voice was waiting for a longer response. Then: “Father, are you alright?”

“My sons,” croaked a third voice. “I am sorry. You are both younger than me and stronger of will. It is difficult to remember who I am in this body. I have need of the Odinsleep.”

_Alright, that’s it._

Tony opened his eyes, straightening himself from his sleeping position. “You guys can talk.”

The animals edged backward, so they were all the way across from him. They stared blankly.

“I’m not deaf,” Tony said. “And I’m not blind, either. I saw what your magic wizard fox was able to do earlier.” He pointed.

The fox cocked its head, an innocent _who, me?_ expression plastered over its furry face. Yeah, not fooling anyone.

“Look,” he continued, “you, Winnie-the-Pooh, you said that those Yo-whatevers were causing this weird-ass weather. How is that even possible? More wizardry?”

“It’s _sorcery_ ,” the fox corrected sourly, and then looked immediately sheepish when the bear and the eagle glared at it--him, whatever.

Tony grinned. “Gotcha.”

“We are not involving this mortal in our affairs!” the bear protested.

God, they talked really weird. Outdated speech, in accents that sounded British but not quite. And they didn’t seem to know who Tony was, but they were animals, after all.

“I’m not just a ‘mortal.’ I’m Tony Stark.”

Only the fox seemed to recognize his name. “The Man of Iron,” he said. “Interesting. Of all Midgardians to encounter, we find one of its champions.”

“Thank you,” Tony said. “Champion, you heard him, Baloo. I might be able to help. You three got names?”

“I am Prince Loki,” said the fox. “My brother the bear is Prince Thor. My father the eagle is King Odin.”

The bear dipped his head in greeting, albeit slightly grudgingly. The eagle stayed where he was, perched on a rock, the flames of the fire flickering in front of him. Upon closer observation, Tony saw that the eagle only had one eye.

“Royalty? Where are you from?”

“Asgard, of the Aesir. A different world. We were not originally animals.” Loki studied Tony; his green eyes glinted in the firelight, bright. “Do you believe me, Stark?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony said. “But I can listen.”

He wasn’t sure about a lot of things, really. He wasn’t some hero, like his dad’s pal Captain America, but he believed that he had the means to _try_. Because this weather wasn’t good. Snow could be burying countries, killing crops, freezing water pipes, who knows. There was a reason for it. Maybe that reason really was those outlandish-Jotun-things.

It was stupid that he had volunteered himself immediately, right off the bat, but it didn’t look like the snow was slowing down. The world could go into an Ice Age after several days...Tony needed answers. He was a scientist. He had his suit and his brains.

The bear--Thor, Tony remembered--turned to Odin. “Do you allow this, Father?”

“Yes,” the eagle said. The word was a shrill shriek, a single finality. He took off to the clouds, where he wove through the smoke of the fire and the falling snow, a pinprick of gold in the sky.

“We have us a quest, then,” Thor said. He looked at Tony steadily. “I will tell you what you need to know.

“There are nine realms of Yggdrasil, the world tree, as many as the nine days and nights that Odin All-Father hanged himself on its branches. Your realm is Midgard. Ours is Asgard. And our foes’ is Jotunheim, where giants and trolls dwell.

“Between these realms is a rainbow bridge called the Bifrost. A man called Heimdall is its sworn guardian. He watches over the realms--all-seeing, all-knowing.

“But on the day of my coronation, three frost giants stormed our palace. They had somehow entered without Heimdall noticing, breaking into the weapons vault. My father, brother, and I rushed to confront them. My arm was wounded in the struggle; I lost my grip of my weapon Mjolnir.

“One giant used that moment to cast underhanded sorcery, transforming us into animals and banishing us to Midgard.

“There, in our vault, the Jotnar laid their hands upon the Casket of Ancient Winters. It is with that they bring about this everlasting winter which envelops all the realms.”

Thor fell silent. He was, Tony saw, shaking with anger, bear fur prickling high like cactus needles. Loki looked more at ease, but there was something strained about his crouching position.

Tony mentally digested the story. Magic. Fucking _magic._

Finally, he asked, “Why winter? Why not spring or summer or fall or anything a _little_ bit less likely to doom the world to die an icy death?”

“They’re frost giants,” Thor said simply. “Winter is their natural condition. They are merely applying it to other realms.”

“So we gotta find some way to Asgard,” Tony said, “kick the Jotnar out of your castle, and get the Casket back.” He grinned, and added: “All right, easy. I’m game.”

“No,” Loki said, “we cannot get to Asgard without the Jotnar noticing. First we go to Jotunheim, but for that we need your help.”

“ _Jotunheim!_ ” Thor exclaimed. Tony flinched. Thor had roared--a loud, angry bear roar. “What plan is this, brother?”

“They will expect us to take the Bifrost from Midgard to Asgard,” Loki said. “They have Father’s throne Lidskjalf to watch us from afar. The power is too much for them, so they will limit their gaze only on one path. We need the advantage of surprise, so we shall take another path.”

“Can’t they be watching us now? So they know your oh-so-clever plan?” Tony said.

“I am shielding us with the little magic I have,” Loki replied. “There are no eyes upon us, Stark. And before you ask, Thor, you know as well as I do that it is easier to contact Heimdall from Jotunheim, since it is closer to Asgard than Vanaheim, or Alfheim, or any other realms.”

“True,” Thor relented, “but I hope that you know what you’re doing, Loki.”

Loki flicked his ears at his brother. “Is the mighty Thor _scared_ , or is this merely my imagination?”

“Not at all,” Thor retorted, affronted at the suggestion. “I do not have Mjolnir, but I have claw and tooth both. We shall go.”

“Glad this is settled. Now. Time to get down into business,” Tony said, cutting in before there was any more back-and-forths between the two princes. He looked at the sky, delayed panic squeezing his heart in a slow grip, because _holy shit,_ he really was going to do this.

He went back to his house for a moment, grabbed a bunch of random emergency supplies that had been stocked in case of a freak earthquake or whatever. He didn’t want to bring too many things; he just jammed the stuff into his case.

He stood there for a few seconds, at the doorway of his own house, as if he was waiting for someone to say goodbye to him. Which he wasn’t, because he’d always have JARVIS.

Then he took off, back into the snow.

 

* * *

 

Loki told the strange mortal--strange, as in impulsively brave and an unusual brand of an ally--how to create the portal.

After his explanation, Loki traced runes in the snow, patterns of summoning. He made blunders several times, muttering about the newness of his paws, but in truth...he was shaking. Jotunheim--to _Jotunheim_ , where his father’s greatest enemies lived. And that was the point of it, really--it would be a delay, a show, where Thor would lapse into his foolishness and thoughtless animosity.

Loki would take over at the ideal moment, with Odin watching, an eagle helpless and powerless, and there he would _see._ See Loki in front of his eyes. Asgard would be saved.

Thor nudged Loki, then, about to ask a question regarding the portal, and Loki said, “We cannot simply call Heimdall, because this is not the usual summoning place, not the desert one. We have to make our own.”

But he was next distracted by Stark, whose red-and-gold armor was unfurling. It was like transformation by magic but with mechanisms clicking into place on his body. Soon Stark was covered by the armor, excepting his face, and he talked to a ghost in his machine. Someone he called JARVIS.

Stark was saying, “Pull up my screens--see that big rock over there? Project it, so we can see. Use the flashlight function in my arm, but telegraph it into my holos.”

‘That big rock.’ Loki glanced at the sheer face of the stone, which was soon illuminated by a dozen of glowing rectangles. One of Stark’s arms remained trained on the wall while the other toyed with the rectangles, dissolving and rearranging them.

On a rectangle that Stark had yet to clear, Loki saw the suspended image of a man. A mortal, his hair dark and his garments gray, but the image was tinted and browned like it was a yellowing leaf. Loki swished his tail at him, and said, “What is this?”

Stark frowned, shifted his gaze away the numbers he was writing on a rectangle. He answered, “My dad.”

Loki nodded. “He looks like you.”

“Looked. He’s dead now.”

“I am sorry,” Loki said.

“Nah, don’t be. He was a bit of a bastard,” Stark said. “You know the story.”

“What story?” Loki examined the other objects near Stark’s father--a miniature landscape--with a cocked head. He had the slow, curious feeling that he was being foolish for asking. But he pushed forward anyway.

Stark put his hand on the rectangle; it disappeared under his touch. “You know. Billionaire genius inventor, his son, expectations, love. It’s old news. And not important right now.”

Loki nodded again. Stark resumed working at his numbers.

There was a grain of kinship here, perhaps, but it was ridiculous of Loki to think of it. Stark was a mortal; he was an asset in a story that truly wasn’t his; and as aforementioned, he was _strange._ Yet his eyes were very brown and very earnest, and his hands moved fast and sure--he was one of Midgard’s few heroes.

Loki sat back to watch the formation of Stark’s numbers, which soon took the shape of sketches, the angles marked.

“Are you ready, Stark?” Thor said, impatient as usual. Odin was currently perched on his back, talons furled into his fur coat.

“Almost. Be patient, Corduroy.”

“Why do you keep calling me strange names?”

“They’re references,” Stark said. “Fictional bears from pop culture, books, etcetera.” He increased the rectangle’s size, so that it was more legible for Loki, and then announced, “Done. Loki, see what you have to do?”

Two minutes of reading the numbers and drawings, and then Loki replied: “I understand.”

Stark grinned--impressed? relieved?--and Loki wished, for one absurd moment, that he was human only so he could smile back. He forced himself to make sure the area remained clear of snow using his magic, so it wouldn’t interfere.

“Get the repulsors ready to fire,” Stark said to his armor’s ghost, snapping the faceplate down. “Stand back, everyone.”

Stark extended his arm toward the rock face. Rays shot from his palms, blue smoothing out the surface. Within a matter of seconds, the rock surface resembled a piece of parchment.

The following requirement was a prism--triangular, five sides--which Stark projected in front of the rock. Loki took his place behind it.

“Light,” Stark prompted.

Loki suddenly put out the fire he had made, and let the snow fall through. He had to concentrate as much power as he could for this incantation. He held a red paw in the air, aimed at the prism, and the green surged from within him.

Then Stark manipulated the prism until a triangular corner fell into the beam of light. The light refracted; a rainbow played over the rock face.

“Heimdall,” Thor said. Nothing happened. “Heimdall!”

Then Odin spread his wings and said, “Heimdall. Your king calls you. We request passage to Jotunheim.”

And the light took them.

 _Jotunheim_ was Loki’s last, helpless thought as they disappeared from Midgard.


	2. all our scratches and blots and mortal wounds

The colors blanketed them all, whirling red orange yellow green blue indigo-violet. Tony’s eyes were blinded by the intensity; he felt like he was being sucked into a tornado. He saw the silhouettes of his companions--fox, bear, eagle--being swept along beside him.

“Tell Pepper and Rhodey that I’m taking care of the snow problem. Pepper’s in charge of the company. Give Rhodey access to my suits,” he whispered to JARVIS, just a split second before he officially lost contact with Earth.

It really didn’t matter if he came back or not. He was being internally poisoned anyway.

Pepper would be a brilliant CEO. Rhodey would be a good Iron Man, though of course he’d have to come up with a new name for himself.

Tony closed his eyes. When he opened them, the HUD showed him such a _jolly_ Winter Wonderland. It looked colder than it was in Malibu, even though there wasn’t any snow.

Everywhere he looked, it was just miles and miles of ice. The sky was blue; the land was blue; the mountains in the distance were blue. JARVIS scanned the area: no signs of any life forms except some things under the ice--aquatic life, mostly fish, probably.

Tony turned around. Loki, Thor, and Odin were larger in size. Greater, somehow. Loki looked more like a big dog rather than a fox. Thor was bulky and solid, his teeth curved in an excited snarl. And Odin--he was blazing golden, beak sharp, and Tony remembered that he had fought a war here once.

“How’d you--?” he asked.

“We’re getting close to Asgard,” Loki said in reply. “Closer to the source of magic that could turn us back. Closer to our homeland.” He closed his green eyes, taking in the power--he looked like an abstract painting, _red fox with eyes closed on ice_ , so fucking _surreal._

Tony stood beside three gods, listening to the cold wind.

He finally spoke. “How do we get to Asgard? Do we use the prism trick again?”

“No,” Loki said. “Constructing our own summoning place uses too much power. Any Jotnar in the surrounding area will sense us, and attack, as we are intruders by treaty. We must find the original Bifrost site.”

“Correct,” the eagle said quietly.

Tony frowned. “We’re in the middle of Jotunheim nowhere! I don’t see any landmarks or signs. We don’t have any maps, either.”

“Have faith, Stark,” Thor said. He butted his snout to Tony’s chest, and Tony grinned at the bear’s eager blue eyes, he couldn’t help it--Thor was _literally_ a big dog. “You sense where our destination is, do you not, Loki? It is a quest, and there will be enemies, and you shall fight alongside us. We will arrive in Asgard soon enough.”

“Yes, it is that way,” Loki confirmed, jerking his head. “I can feel a faint trace of the Bifrost.”

“East,” Tony said. “I guess we better get going.” He powered up his suit’s boosters, hovering in the air. He paused. “Will you be okay with your injury, Thor?”

“I can walk,” Thor said stubbornly. But he added, “Do not go too fast.”

“All right,” Tony acceded. So he didn’t need his suit to fly after all. He replaced it back to his case, flexing his joints once he was free of it. Then he took out something he had packed--a casualty blanket that had been in his emergency supplies, since he didn’t keep any thick coats in his Malibu house--and wrapped it around himself.

The damned thing looked like tinfoil, shining and silver. The silliest kind of cloak in existence. But it was either that or freeze to death. So he tried to look as dignified as possible, the blanket crinkling and crackling as he moved.

He said, “So we’re walking.”

“We have no choice until Thor’s wound heals,” Loki said. To his brother, he said, “Give it perhaps a day or two. The closer we are to Asgard, our Aesir strength will grow, and it will be better.”

“Good,” Thor said. And, as if proof of his current strength, his paws scrabbled on the ice, beginning to walk into the direction Loki had indicated.

Tony let out a huff of laughter and followed. Loki slunk behind him in vulpine grace, like an ocean wave. Odin was in the air, his wings flapping slowly.

Hours passed. The blue blurred in Tony’s eyes. It was constant deja vu, where there didn’t seem to be any logical progression in walking--it was the same scenery, the same sky, ice under his feet, the animals at his side. He could hear his own breath and his heartbeat, and it seemed like the land had centered upon him--Tony Stark in the cold, Tony Stark with his Iron Man suit in hand, Tony Stark with palladium in his chest.

He thought, once or twice, that it was a whacked-out dream where he was contemplating his own mortality in some weird way, but then the wind would blow or he’d hear Loki breathe from behind him, and there was no fucking way his imagination could be _that_ good.

So Tony rubbed his eyes to focus, blinking back into reality, and finally there was a change for once: mist. It was getting hard to see--visibility going nutso-percent--and he had to grab onto a handful of Thor’s fur to guide him, since he was the only one there without animal eyesight.

“Do they ever get sun here?” he said as he curled a hand around Thor’s neck. “Or is this just the Casket thing at work?”

“It’s this realm,” Thor said, and Tony could hear the strain in his voice: he was tired, and his leg was hurting. No doctor, Tony was.

“We should take a break,” Tony suggested. “It’d probably be a good idea. Especially in this weather.”

Thor and Loki voiced their assent, and there they were. Sitting on the icy ground in the fog, resting. Tony rubbed his hands, blew on his fingers, trying to coax warmth into them. He had shrugged them into his jacket sleeves, wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, but that still hadn’t kept the cold out entirely.

“Can you do your pyrotechnics?” Tony said to Loki. “I’ve got no fur or feathers, sorry.”

So Loki set a fire, and Tony huddled around it-- _huddled_ , Tony Stark doesn’t huddle--and he was grateful for the burst of red-orange on the ground. Something other than that blue, blue, blue.

Thor immediately fell into a nap which Tony was sure the guy needed, and after a minute, Odin slept, too.

Loki said, “We’ll set off soon,” and Tony nodded, watching as the fox rolled into a cocoon, a ball of fur, almost as close to the fire as Tony. Not so hardy as Thor in the cold, apparently.

Unlike his brother and father, Loki didn’t fall asleep, just stared out at his fire like he was pondering it. His nose touched the white tip of his tail, and Tony had to stifle a laugh as Loki recoiled, as if surprised by its existence.

“I wonder what it’d be if I was an animal,” Tony wondered idly out loud.

“You wouldn’t be an animal,” Loki said, lifting his head to look at Tony. “You’d be a machine of some sort.”

Tony laughed. “I don’t think that’s how this road trip game is played, Loki.” But he considered it, and said, “I think that would be cool, actually. I bet I’ll be a killer robot artificial intelligence thing, painted hot rod red and gold, obviously. Very Terminator.”

“You should tell me about your armor,” Loki said, and the curiosity made his eyes and the fire bright, and Tony was trying not to laugh again.

 _Priorities_ , he thought. _I’m talking to a Norse god about my suit and I think I’m finding him funny. And the world is ending. Also, roadtrip games._

Loki asked, “What is that ghost inside your armor? The voice that you spoke to when we built the portal.”

“That’s JARVIS,” Tony said, sliding his case forward like it was a museum display, opening it so Loki could look. “He’s in my suits, and he’s in my home too. He’s the actual artificial intelligence here. Just a Rather Very Intelligent System, in fact. He can be a smartass sometimes, too.”

Loki nodded like it all made sense. “Like his creator.”

Tony couldn't bite back the childish, “Am not,” that came out of his mouth.

“You call my brother names, and you called me _vixen_ when you first saw me.”

“Oh, right, that,” Tony said with a grin. “The literal definition, Loki, not the whole ‘annoying woman’ or ‘hot, sexy woman’ one. Although I have no idea if you’re hot sans fox form, to be honest.”

Loki let out a bark of fox-laughter. “I suppose you can judge for yourself when I get my body back, Stark.”

“ _When_ , not _if._ I like your optimism.” Tony clapped his hands together, and quickly shook off the obvious human-fox-flirting going on here, because that was too bizarre to even think about. “You think we should get going now?”

Loki got up--a little reluctantly, maybe--and said, “That would be wise. We do not have very much time.” He woke up Thor and Odin, and The Journey--Tony capitalized the words in his head; it made it sound as important as it was--continued.

 

* * *

 

They stopped at nightfall. Loki lit a fire for them again and they all gathered around it. Jotunheim at night was pitch black, so the firelight was extremely helpful.

Tony stretched his legs; tucked them underneath him. He was sore now, and he’d probably be more sore in the morning.

“We’ve made good progress,” Thor said. “You’ve kept up well for a mortal, Stark.”

“Thanks,” Tony said.

“I am hungry,” Loki spoke up.

Oh. Right. Last meal that Tony had was breakfast. He skipped meals to work on his inventions all the time, but it _really_ wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, if he was honest with himself. His stomach felt empty; and he was exhausted by today’s general...excitement. What an understatement.

“I don’t...”

Hold on. He remembered the emergency supplies he had packed. Tony fumbled for the case and took out a first-aid pouch, searching for anything edible. Gauze, compress, thermometer, scissors, tweezers...and finally, a couple of food packets. Tony crinkled his nose; it didn’t look appetizing.

“What are those?” Thor said. He moved toward Tony, sniffing the packets curiously.

“Our dinner. Freeze-dried food, plus some nuts and dried fruit. I call dibs on the fruit and nuts--you guys need meat, right?” Tony squinted at one of the freeze-dried food packets, reading the small print. “This says to add hot water. Just pour it into the packet, and your food’s ready. You could eat it raw, too, but apparently that dehydrates you. So do you just want to...”

“My brother could melt ice,” Thor suggested.

“Huh. That’s a good idea.” Tony shuffled around further in his kit. “I think I saw...here. Water purification tablets. Damn, this thing is useful.”

“This looks promising, Stark,” Loki said. “It would be best if we went hunting, but these packets will suffice at the moment.”

 _Hunting what?_ Tony thought, looking despairingly at the desolate iceland, but decided that the question would wait until tomorrow. He wanted to eat _right now._

Loki set to work providing water, placing a paw on the ice and heating it up. Tony plopped a water purification tablet there during the process. Then Tony scooped the water into the packets, using the pair of scissors’ blades as a spoon. After mixing, he waited, as per the packet’s instructions.

“It smells wonderful,” Thor said approvingly, poking his nose at one packet.

He was right. Tony could smell the entrees: bacon and eggs, chicken alfredo, beef stew, seafood chowder, turkey tetrazzini. His stomach grumbled. He quickly distributed the packets out to Thor, Loki, and Odin--two for Thor, since he was the biggest--and they all dug in.

It was messy eating for everyone. Tony awkwardly used the scissor handles to scoop the tetrazzini noodles into his mouth, while each animal had to tear through the packets with their sharp teeth (or in Odin’s case, beak).

While they ate, Tony said, “So. Do you want to use this time as a cultural exchange? Since Swiper was asking about my suit, I was wondering about that Mjolnir thing that Thor mentioned. His weapon.”

“You are jesting about my form again,” Loki said, looking up from his bacon and eggs.

“Yes, can’t let Thor have all the nicknames,” Tony agreed. “It’s from _Dora the Explorer_. Do you guys even have TV in Asgard? Or know what that is?”

“ _I_ know,” Loki said irritably. “I’ve periodically visited Midgard. But, no, we do not have television. It seems frivolous.”

Tony was about to rebut with a long lecture about technology and satellites and worldwide development, but luckily, Thor sensed what was going to happen, and interrupted, “Mjolnir is my hammer. The dwarf Sindri of Darkalfheim forged it. The name means ‘crusher.’ Whenever I throw Mjolnir, it always returns to my hand. With my hammer, I can also harness lightning.”

Loki barked, that strange fox-laugh again. “Do you remember, brother, the first time you used Mjolnir to channel lightning? It was hot in your hands; you had yet to get used to it.”

“Mitt,” Odin said. He didn’t say much, but that single word had Thor bearing his canines in what could be a smile.

“So you went to our mother, the queen Frigga,” Loki continued. “You asked her to make you something to act as a barrier between skin and metal. So she went to spin yarn, skillful with her gold distaff and spindle, and she made you a sturdy mitt.

“You thanked her and you used it, until one day you left it out in hall after feasting. The servants took it, then, with their usual loads of washing.” Loki stopped, allowing Thor to pick up the last thread of the story.

“And so I roared with surprise,” Thor said, “when I found it eventually returned to my room, in a drawer full of my leg wrappings and underwear!”

Tony snorted. “Wonderful. So Norse gods have their comedic misunderstandings, too.”

“Is that adequate cultural exchange, Stark?” Loki said, his eyes mocking.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Softly, he heard Thor say, “I hope Mother is well. I hope the Jotnar have not hurt her.”

That killed the mood. Odin croaked something that could have been a _yes_ , and Loki stood frozen where he was. The flames of the fire extinguished briefly, then relit.

Tony felt awkwardly out of place. He quietly he ate the last of his dried apricots. He thought about his own mother, in a shared grave with his father, and hoped that Loki and Thor wouldn’t lose theirs, either.

“We should sleep,” he said finally.

Thor bobbed his head. “Yes. It will be a long journey tomorrow,” he said. “You will be cold, Stark. Sleep beside me. I can keep your warm.”

He was too tired to make a suggestive joke about that, which was a first. Tony curled into Thor’s side--soft and gold, like a real heating blanket and not his tinfoil thing--and soon felt the rise and fall of Thor’s breaths as the bear slept. His eyelids slid shut. The last thing he saw was the fire, flickering with uncertainty, then igniting, then dying.

 

* * *

 

He hated Thor for mentioning her.

Loki had the base, animal urge to bite his brother in that single moment, and perhaps himself, because _he hadn’t thought of her._

Frigga. His beautiful, kind mother trapped at the hands of the Jotnar--with their sorcery and ice--wondering where her family had went, if the Jotnar had killed them. Would she be a prisoner? Would she be dead? Would magic be used on her? She had magic herself and knew how to wield a blade, but against _three_ Jotnar armed with the Casket it would be unlikely that she would win.

Loki let out a breath into the night sky. Every second wasted in Jotunheim now wouldn’t be in favor of his glory, but at the detriment of his mother.

“Are you alright, Loki?”

Loki started. “Father,” he said to the eagle on his back.

“You are not asleep yet,” Odin said softly, so as to not wake Thor and Stark. “If you were in fear of waking me, you may move closer to the fire. It is a cold night.”

“It is,” Loki said. “But it is not the night I was thinking about...it is what Thor said about Mother. I am worried for her.”

“I am troubled as well,” Odin said, and Loki felt the velvet texture of his feathers run along his fur. Comfort. “But have hope, my son. This venture will end happily--I swear to that. As king and All-Father and even the eagle I am now.”

Loki opened his mouth to tell his father what he had done, but he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t.

Odin would not say, _I forgive you, I absolve you, I_ see _you_. Loki would be resigned to disappointment and shame, while Thor would still be the next king. One brother would rise, one would fall, but that would be the endgame still, even if he didn’t confess.

One brother would rise, one would fall.

So it was inevitable.

He kept his father’s words close to his heart: I swear to that.

 _No more trickery_ , he thought to himself. They had to get to the portal as soon as possible. He would make sure that Thor would not be sidetracked into foolishness that he had anticipated. _But maybe,_ something treacherous inside of him was saying, _if the opportunity arose, just half of a day or a day, it wouldn’t take long for Thor to humiliate himself with an enemy--_

The day of the almost-coronation stung in his mind, fresh like a bleeding wound. Thor had been dressed imperiously in red, Mjolnir in hand, and Loki was watching--watching.

Loki hated himself, and he dreamed of his mother.

 

* * *

 

Sleeping beside a bear was a comfortable way to fall asleep, but waking wasn’t as pleasant. Waking was Thor nudging him with a paw, prodding him hard.

“Hey, gentle,” Tony groaned. He rubbed his eyes, trying to blink away the sleep. “What is it, Fozzie Bear?”

“I’m going to hunt,” Thor said. “You can go back to sleep, Stark. But it’s best if you move beside my brother--I do not want you be cold.”

Tony glanced over at Loki, nestled beside the fire with his father. Odin was using his fur as a nest, by the looks of it, claws furled on him. “No, I don’t want to bother them. S’fine.” He yawned.

Thor started off, but Tony said, “Wait, let me redress your paw. It’s going to be gross, after walking on it yesterday. I’ll get you a new bandage.”

“Thank you,” Thor said. He settled on the ice, watching as Tony sorted through the first-aid kit. “You’ve done so much for us, Stark. I appreciate it greatly.” He offered his paw to Tony.

“It’s no big deal,” Tony said. He pried off the bloodied dressing and bandage, then unscrewed the cap off some antibiotic ointment. “This is going to sting a little, okay? I don’t want this to get infected or anything.”

With a cotton pad, he applied the ointment. A discomfited noise from Thor, but that was all. Jesus, Tony was getting a hang of this vet stuff.

As he was finishing up redressing the wound, Thor said, “Stark, I hope it is not rude of me to inquire, but what is that light on your chest?”

Tony paused. “It’s an arc reactor. Keeps me alive. There’s shards in my heart.”

“You made it yourself?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He should check the palladium level soon. He had used his suit for a long time the day before. “I was in Afghanistan. I,uh...well, pretty much everyone on Earth knows the story, but you’re an alien, so what the hell. There was this terrorist group called Ten Rings. They stuck me in a cave with this guy named Yinsen, another engineer. They wanted us to make something for them. A Jericho missile; a kind of weapon. I didn’t make it, of course. Instead I made my arc reactor and the Iron Man suit. And eventually I got out, though Yinsen--didn’t. I privatized world peace in the aftermath.”

He knew that he was being deliberately vague, but his time in that cave was something he didn’t like remembering, never mind telling anyone out loud. He had never discussed Afghanistan with anyone in detail, and he knew that it wasn’t something he’d ever do in the future.

Thor was silent, which was surprisingly tactful of him. Did Tony just earn a Norse thunder god’s respect? He probably did. What a big damn hero he must seem like.

Tony dragged a hand through his hair, and smiled at Thor. “There you go. Wound redressed. Go get breakfast now, I’m famished.”

Loki’s eyes were open; he had been listening. Cultural exchange, wasn’t it?

“Vulpix,” Tony said, “stop lazing around. Help Thor hunt.”

Loki gently shook Odin off his back. “Of course.”

He ambled toward his brother, trading _good morning_ s. Tony followed the two animals, wondering if they were going to use magic or hunt the usual animal way. 

 

* * *

 

Stark’s tale was on Loki’s mind as he and Thor searched the ice for any promising hunting holes. While he put a nose to the ground, sniffing, he thought of the mortal. So tragedy and captivity had set him alight, red-and-gold and powerful and sharp-tongued.

Stark had looked at his chest when he was telling his story, and then he’d met Loki’s gaze, his eyes knowing that he had another listener.

He had made himself strong and well-known. He had made himself a kingdom with his own hands.

Loki wanted that.

“Let’s try here, brother,” he said shortly to Thor, remembering their hunt. He indicated a spot several feet away from him.

“All right.”

Loki bent over a hole in the ice, Thor behind him. The both of them waited for prey--hopefully Jotunheim had substantial food, because Stark’s mortal food had been finished. They were still for several minutes; he noticed, fleetingly, that Stark was watching.

Suddenly, something resurfaced. Loki swatted at it with his paws, claws raking down its stomach, nipping at it with his teeth. It was slippery, wiggling, and the feel of its skin on his fur was disconcerting. Their prey was a seal, fat and gray.

“Brother!” he yelped.

Thor lunged at their prey, hooking his claws around the seal. He bit it swiftly, putting the creature out of its misery, and Loki watched, breathing hard, the taste of the seal’s blood in his mouth and on his muzzle.

Loki’s mind was racing with excitement. He had been on hunts like these with his brother in the past. He had raced with the hounds, Thor yelling in jubilation, and then they’d laid down the meat at the cooks’ feet, beaming with pride. The furs Loki had gifted to Frigga, and his mother had smiled and promised to make him the warmest cloak for the winter.

He touched his nose to the side of Thor’s neck, and fought down the animal instinct to lick the blood off there. Thor returned the gesture with a fond smile in his eyes--so he was recalling their hunts, too--and he put a paw on the seal, perhaps ready to examine the meat.

Stark took one look at the seal and yelled, “How the fuck am I supposed to eat _that_?”

“Calm down, Stark,” Loki said. “We will search for fish as well. This is for us.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going to go now, you merciless hunters you. I _really_ don’t need to see a gruesome _Animal Planet_ documentary reenactment.” Stark walked back toward the fire, shaking his head.

“I swear I cannot understand half of the things that mortal says,” Thor said. “He is...strange, but he is a good warrior.”

“Oh?” So Stark’s tale had made an impression on him as well.

“The light in his chest is not for ornamentation, but it keeps him alive. He endured much, and consequently he seeks peace for his realm, with the assistance of his armor. Like Father,” Thor said. “After the last Jotun war.”

Loki stared at his brother. Perhaps...no. One single remark like this held nothing to Thor’s actions of the past, when he leapt into battle immediately, the Warrior Three and Sif at his beck and call.

“I have missed hunting like this, brother,” Thor said, sniffing for more prey.

“Me, too,” Loki said quietly.

They hadn’t gone hunting together for the last year or so. Loki had always found reasons not to accompany his brother. It was the fault of that old bitterness, once again.

 

* * *

 

Tony reached into his pocket, pressed his finger down.

Blood toxicity: 23%.

He had used the suit yesterday. Right.

Back by the fire, Odin was still sleeping. His head was tucked into his back feathers, beak and eyes buried from sight. Tony kept a clear distance from him, giving the eagle space--he was a king, even if he didn’t seem like one now.

Now. Time to get down to business.

He dropped his casualty blanket, zipped down his jacket, pulled up his shirt. The palladium core hissed when he removed it, sizzling in his hands. He took one of the metal chips out of his briefcase and inserted it into his arc reactor.

Tony touched his chest cautiously, exhaled.

By the time Thor and Loki were back, his jacket was zipped and the case was set to the side. He greeted them with a wince, thinking of the seal, but all they brought back was fish. Tony had no idea what kind they were, but he set on cooking the fish over the fire, emptying his case and using it as a sort of pan. He again had to use the scissors as a utensil, cutting around fishbones--God, it _sucked_ being deprived of basic necessities. But he had to eat something.

Odin was awake. He was busy tearing at one of the fishes with his beak.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Thor,” Tony said between bites.

Thor bowed his head. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Is it alright if I ride on your back today?” Tony asked. “You’re pretty big. And your injury’s getting a hell lot better since you’re closer to Asgard and all that. I’ve been able to keep up so far, but hey, I’m only human, and my legs are actually kinda aching today.”

Lie, lie. Maybe he was afraid that the effects of the palladium poisoning would show through when he was physically tiring himself out. Maybe he was afraid that walking so goddamned long would worsen it, because his heart and shit.

It was none of their business that he was dying; he barely knew them. He was pretty sure that he could hold on long enough.

“Of course, Stark,” Thor said. “I do not wish for you to overexert yourself. You are welcome to use me as a steed.”

“Thanks. It means a lot to me, buddy.”

Loki looked at Tony curiously. Tony gave him a toothy smile.

So they were off once again--Loki and Thor walking, Odin flying. Tony clung tightly onto Thor’s neck, one hand carrying his suitcase. The icy world streamed past them, and the blanket across his body flapped in the wind like a flag.

“How long, Loki?” he said over the sound of the wind.

“We will arrive in one day, or perhaps the day after that,” the fox said. Then he added, “Do not worry about your realm, Stark. Time runs faster in these realms compared to Midgard. It has yet to perish from winter.”

“Good to know,” Tony said. He turned his gaze to the plains of ice ahead of them.


	3. the whole precarious geology

Blood toxicity: 25%. Okay, that was much better than the last seven percent increase. Changing the core probably helped a little.

Tony walked a couple steps, stretching his legs. It was noon. They had stopped to rest, eat, and drink (Loki melted more ice for them). Loki had found mussels somewhere below the ice, and Tony was glad for some variety in his diet--fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for days would’ve drove him crazy.

“I think,” he said solemnly, “this is the longest I’ll be without alcohol or caffeine.”

“I wish for ale, too,” Thor said. “Although I know not of that ‘caffeine’ you speak of.”

Tony sighed. “One less addiction you Aesir are deprived of, then. Although you probably should be drinking it--it is shockingly superhuman of you that you haven’t collapsed from carrying me. Me, my suit, my ego.”

“Ego,” Thor said, but it didn’t sound like he was insulting Tony. “You _are_ a great hero on Midgard, are you not?”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, but mostly infamous. I am--well, was--CEO of Stark Industries. That means chief executive officer,” he added.

“You are no longer the leader now,” Thor surmised.

“I’ve chosen a successor so that I can concentrate on my work,” Tony said. “My friend Pepper’ll do good things with it. I’ve planned for something called the Stark Expo...”

And he explained to Thor about the inventions and displays that were going to be in Flushing Meadows. Even though he was an Asgardian warrior type, Thor paid attention rather avidly--Tony didn’t go into too much tech detail, knowing that it might bore him--but, well, Asgard didn’t have science-y things, so it probably fascinated him.

Tony mentioned NASA, which ended up with him having to describe the Apollo program.

“Yeah, we really _did_ land on the moon,” he said. “Planted a flag and everything. The U.S. went there six times. Stark Industries had a little bit of a hand in it--my father, I mean--with the lunar module. It was the Space Race against the Russians, so of course he had to be somewhat involved. Howard Stark’s analogous with the Cold War.”

He was thinking: if he got back to the Stark Expo, he’d make a speech on legacy.

He found himself telling Thor, “We’re different now, though. Stark Industries doesn’t make weapons any more. I’ve got my Iron Man suits, but our main goal is clean energy using my arc reactor tech.”

Thor nodded his head slowly; he looked thoughtful. “Thank you for telling me all this, Stark. I do not know much about Midgard, unlike my brother. I’d like to visit your realm properly one day. Perhaps you could show me around.”

“I’d like to,” Tony said, and was surprised when he said it. He genuinely liked Thor, yeah, but he hadn’t been sure if he’d return home.

Loki and Odin returned with more lunch. Tony saluted them, and tossed one of his fish Thor’s way, which the bear easily snapped up with his teeth.

 

* * *

 

Loki wondered why he would sometimes catch Stark with a hand on his chest, his brown eyes half-shuttered with thought.

Stark had done so when he was talking to Thor, whom he had been befriending with ease just like Loki’s own conversation with him. And he had lied about wanting to ride on Thor’s back. Loki knew this, for he knew lies, and Stark was a puzzle to be solved, a riddle to be guessed.

That night, Loki saw Stark staring at the Jotunheim sky. It was full of stars, which shone bright and clear, and Stark was so silent and intent that Loki wondered if he was listening to the song of them. They were Musphelheim’s embers, according to lore. Sparks, which were attached to the dome of the sky along with the sun and the moon...

“The stars are different here,” Stark said to himself, a quiet mutter of words.

Loki heard him, and he heard the mortal’s longing of Midgard, and he felt his fox ears twitch, as if to bend over the sounds and keep the warmth there.

Loki thought, _I am a fool. I think of warmth, but it is I who brought upon this cold._

Out loud he said, “Are you an astrologer as well as a smith, Stark?”

Stark looked at him, startled, and said, “What? No, uh.” He chuckled, threaded a rueful hand in his hair, and said, “When I was younger, I used to haul a telescope that I’d made myself to the roof of my house. I lived in New York, though, which is so goddamned polluted that you can’t see anything. But I was a stubborn kid and memorized the damn things anyway.”

Loki nodded.

The corners of Stark’s mouth upturned into a smile. “You know, Earth constellations have you three. Vulpecula, Ursa Major, and Aquila. Fox, bear, and eagle. Coincidentally, Vulpecula’s next to Aquila,” Stark said, shrugging, looking at Odin, but Loki didn’t follow his gaze, unable to tear his eyes off the mortal.

(He didn’t want to think about his father now. He didn’t want to think about the end of the world, nor Thor, nor his mother.)

Stark said, “I’m going to sleep now. Night, Tails.”

At the nickname, Loki made a noise that could very well be a fox scoff.

“Good night, Stark,” he said.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Tony watched Thor dunk his head into an ice hole. The bear immediately recoiled one second after submerging, shouting out unintelligible imprecations. Tony chortled, but helped him avoid other ice holes as he recovered, saying, “Seriously, you could ask Loki to warm it up for you, you know.”

“His magic is limited,” Thor said. He shook water droplets from his muzzle; Tony ducked to avoid them. “I do not wish to push him.”

“Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” Tony stood back up, walking back to the fire with the still-soaking bear. He’d personally like to wash his own face, but that could wait. If they were lucky, they would find the portal within a couple hours.

Tony opened his mouth to tell Loki that they were ready to go, but his tongue abruptly filled with the taste of bird feathers. He made an _urgh_ noise of surprise, bringing his hands up to disentangle a scrabbling Odin from his head. Claws raked across his cheek, cutting skin; Tony hissed with pain, and eventually managed to throw the bird onto the ice, spitting out, “What the _fuck?_ ”

He didn’t receive his explanation just yet--Loki pounced on Odin, keeping him down with his body weight and paws.

“Father,” he panted, “keep a hold of yourself. Remember who you are.”

Oh, right. Tony remembered Odin telling his sons that he was losing his mind in the eagle body. And there was the whole being-quiet-most-of-the-time deal with him. Tony grimaced and wiped blood onto his sleeve, kneeling down at a cautious distance.

Thor, who had been been watching helplessly, probably not wanting to accidentally hurt Odin with his sharp claws and/or teeth, bent over the two of them. He said, “Can you use your magic to help Father?”

“No. I only have simple control over the elements,” Loki said, not tearing his eyes off Odin. “We have to try and talk to him. Return him to his senses.”

“You are All-Father,” Thor said; he was trying to keep his voice steady, but it was shaking a little. He placed a paw on one of Odin’s frantically flapping wings. “You are Odin of the Aesir. You are _Spirit_ , do you remember? Even in an eagle’s form, you are _Spirit._ ”

Thor’s voice was like thunder. Odin’s struggling relaxed slightly.

“You are Ygg, of storm and war,” Thor continued, but that made Odin’s eyes flash with fierceness, and he moved to snag his beak on Loki’s scruff. Loki growled, batted the beak away.

Wrong thing to say, whoops. Tony inched away a little farther.

Loki, Tony noticed, was getting increasingly desperate. Odin was thrashing with his talons, and it was getting harder for the fox to pin him down. There wasn’t much of a person left in him, just wild eagle-ness; he was squawking now.

Then Loki snarled, “It was _me._ You knew, didn’t you?”

Odin stopped stock-still. His eyes, blue like Thor’s, were locked on Loki.

Thor said, “What--?”

“I let the Jotnar into Asgard,” Loki said.

 _Oh goddamn shit, ladies and gentlemen, the plot thickens._ This wasn’t Tony’s drama to interrupt. He was a witness; he watched silently, wondering what the hell--what the actual hell--was going on.

He _liked_ Loki, for chrissakes. He’d gone stargazing with the idiot; he’d danced that weird line of flirtation of him; he’d sort of played a road trip game with him.

“They weren’t supposed to win,” Loki said. “I thought--I thought you would stop them, Father. And then you would _see._ ”

He shot a poisonous, venomous gaze at Thor, so full of hatred that Tony felt sick. Tony didn’t need to see this; he’d already had been subjected to paralysis, Obie setting him against a couch with sickeningly sweet gentleness, smiling as his veins turned a darkened blue.

Loki said, “Thor is not a king. He doesn’t know how to handle Asgard or deal with the frost giants. Did you not hear him? His first thought of this matter is to grab his precious Mjolnir. His first thought of this matter is of recklessness and battle. He will destroy all the realms.”

“What are you saying, brother?” Thor said, hoarse. “You’ve never voiced these doubts before. I don’t--you have underestimated me. I promise you, I would never willingly bring about harm.”

“ _Willingly_ ,” the fox scoffed. “Yes, that’s the problem. Asgard’s people will see you trying, Thor, see you noble and brave while you wreck the world. They will love you for it; they will be blind. It is the worst possible future, and it will _not happen._ ”

“The future,” Odin said softly. “Loki, the Jotnar have Asgard. Two guards are dead. Perhaps there are more deaths. The Warriors Three. Sif. Your mother.”

Loki yowled, a noise that was somehow both animalistic and human. “You were supposed to stop them!”

Gently: “And you overestimate me. These are the consequences of your actions, my son.”

“What else was I supposed to do, Father?” Loki said. He drew away from Odin. He glanced at Thor, and then his father like he was lost. “Your own brothers are shadows compared to you. You know this. We know this. Not many honor Hoenir and Lodur as they you.”

“Will and warmth are still important, Loki. You are no shadow. You are a prince and an Aesir. And your brother is a better man than you think he is. You should know _this_. Your own flesh and blood, former playmate, and constant companion.”

Thor murmured, “I am sorry--”

“Be silent,” Loki hissed. “I do not know. I do not _know._ ” He dug his claws into the icy ground. “I’ll help fix what I have unleashed. I will swear to that, at least. But my loyalty does not lie with you, Thor.”

Odin didn’t say anything more.

Loki turned to Tony and said, “Do stop your gawking, mortal. We will set off now. We have lost much time.”

Tony met his green eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

But his own eyes said, _You try anything else and I’ll fucking kill you._ Because this was Loki’s mess, unintended or not. Tony got dragged into this batshit melodrama and he might die--hell, so many people might die, Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even that irritating Agent Coulson and everyone else, on Earth or otherwise--and he had to help fix it, too.

He made his way toward Thor, stroked the bear’s fur. “C’mon, Yogi Bear. We still have our quest. Find our way to Asgard, kick the Jotnar out of your castle, get the Casket back, and save the collective worlds, remember?”

Thor lowered his neck so that Tony could clamber onto his back. “Yes, Stark,” he breathed. “We will go.”

He strode the fastest Tony had ever seen him. Tony burrowed his face into the crook of Thor’s neck, the wind biting his face, and he shook with laughter edged with hysteria. Loki was at a distance behind them; Odin took to the clouds.

Tony checked his blood. 35%. It was accelerating. JARVIS had told him that there was a drink he could make to slow down the process, but well: Jotunheim. He didn’t have the materials or the time. The best he could do was keep changing his core, and wait to see how long he could last.

 

* * *

 

They continued on for several hours.

Nightfall, and they trudged into a cave. Nobody spoke. The threads of the day’s earlier conversation hung in the air, palpable as the cold, and Tony thought, _We might as well goddamned choke on them._

Thor curled up in a corner, while Odin found a hollow in a boulder. Loki paced from one end of the cave to the other, treading noiselessly, and Tony watched him, wondering who the fuck this guy really was. Tony was exhausted, though, and soon thoughts of Loki were displaced by thoughts of sleep and he--

 _Can’t_ , something in Tony’s mind screamed, and his eyes snapped open. _Yinsen, the suit..._

It was the cave walls. The dirt floor and the enclosed stone roof and the claustrophobia. There were people he didn’t want to get hurt-- _Thor_ , he tried not to say out loud, remembering those sad blue eyes which were much too human; they didn’t belong on an animal.

“Shit,” he said.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, took a couple of deep breaths.

“Stark?”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin. “Loki,” he said, as flat as he could, but he knew that his cheeks were pale and the bile was stinging at the back of his throat.

“You’re shaking,” Loki said quietly. “Would you like me to set a fire?”

“ _No_ ,” Tony snapped. The syllable was unnecessarily harsh. It rang throughout the cave as an echo, and Thor shifted in his sleep.

Loki looked at Tony’s trembling hands and said, “You are afraid.”

“Not me,” Tony said. “Not Tony Stark, no siree.” And he laughed, and thought, _Fuck him_.

_Fuck this kid who betrayed his family, fuck this kid who triggered the apocalypse, fuck this kid with shiny green eyes who keeps staring at me like I’m some sort of Captain America._

“Stark,” Loki started.

“Get away from me,” Tony whispered.

“No,” Loki said, and in a weird messed-up turn around of their first meeting, he slunk deeper into the darkness of the cave. Expecting Tony to follow him, his red tail beckoning.

So he followed.

Tony didn’t see Loki at first.

He saw the cave ceiling, which was alight with _blue._ His mind spelt out, _bioluminescence_ , and that was what it was--a pseudo-night-sky caused by glow worms. The sparks of blue were stars; the sparks of blue were Tony’s holographic screens that he pulled up at home, bright and real.

"So you see," Loki said, hidden in the darkness, "it is not the same cave of your past after all."

Tony wanted to manipulate the glow worms to form out patterns and designs and calculations. He wanted to put them underneath him so he had firm ground to stand on, not desert sand, not with his legs shaking.

He finally saw Loki beneath the blue, his red fur reflecting off the color. “Here are your constellations,” Loki said, like he was giving Tony a gift, the greatest gift he could give, and Tony thought he understood, just a little.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, they set off again.

And then a blizzard crept in. Tony craned his neck to look at the darkening clouds, his mouth set into a grim frown. Thor, Loki, and Odin stopped where they were, watching as the snow built up around them. There were no caves in sight this time.

“I cannot shield us from this,” Loki said. “It’s a strong storm.”

“I think I see something,” Tony said. “Over there.”

It was a stronghold. A Jotun fortress, its towers jagged like icicles, and _huge._ Tony examined its architecture thoughtfully; it would be a safe place to stay, except there was the glaring fact that they weren’t supposed to be in the realm, period.

“We need shelter,” Loki said softly.

“Who knows what Jotnar may dwell there,” Thor said, low. “But let us request hospitality. If we are lucky, we will not be recognized.”

They all looked at each other; Tony said, “I’m not freezing to death out here. Let’s go.” He urged Thor forward, and the bear started trudging through the snow, leading the way.

The stronghold door was a heavy iron affair, imposing. Jotnar were clearly taller than humans, and Tony silently cursed his own shortness. He knocked as hard as he could: _rap, rap_ which resonated into booms. He could hear footsteps from the other side.

The door opened.

Tony felt like this was a reverse Big Bad Wolf scenario. He was the little pig on the other side of the doorway, not quite swearing by the hairs of his chinny-chin-chin, but still--this guy was big, his eyes red, his body covered in markings. He towered over Tony and even Thor, despite his magic-enhanced bear upgrade.

“Who are you?” the Jotun asked. “I am Utgardsloki, and this is my fortress.”

Before Tony had knocked, they had come up with a quick plan. He said, “I’m Tony Stark, of Midgard. A traveler. I’m here to request your hospitality until the blizzard’s over. I’m on a quest.”

Utgardsloki cocked his head. “Ah. And what might these creatures be?” He gestured toward Loki, Thor, and Odin.

“They’re my familiars,” Tony said with an easy shrug. “They advise me, provide aid. Don’t mind them. I’ve got ‘em under control.”

“I see,” Utgardsloki said. His expression was unfathomable, blank. “You must be weary from your travels, Stark. You are welcome in my dwelling to rest, drink, and sup--on account that you and your familiars take up a challenge of mine.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “A challenge?”

“To prove your worth,” the frost giant said. He was amused--that was it. Tony gritted his teeth in frustration, but he willed himself not to interrupt. Utgardsloki said simply, like it was a universally accepted truth, “I am one of the strongest and slyest among Jotnar. I’ve never had the opportunity to face a Midgardian before.”

“Fine,” Tony said without pausing. “I’ll do your challenge.”

Loki shot him a warning glare, but Tony just blithely stared up at Utgardsloki (his name was weirdly similar to Loki’s, he thought briefly) and waited until the frost giant let them in. Thor touched his nose to Tony’s hand, his breath warm on Tony’s palm, and Tony tried to convey as best he could: _I know what I’m doing, back off._

He had a feeling that Thor would spring up and attack Utgardsloki, whether he was adequately provoked or not, and even though Tony was all for trouncing that smug bastard’s ass, he wasn’t sure if they would win. Utgardsloki had plenty of advantages over them--hell, there might be other frost giants there, for all they knew--and they needed shelter first and foremost. Tactically, it wouldn’t be best to attack him immediately--instead, just play along with his ‘challenge,’ and hope that they could anticipate whatever showdowns he had in mind.

They _did not_ need to stir shit here, where Loki, Thor, and Odin were wanted men.

Utgardsloki led them into a room, telling Tony to refresh and rest. “After you have settled in, I will call you down to dinner. Your familiars may join you.” His eyes flickered over the three animals, perhaps suspicious. It was hard to tell. He continued, “After that I will issue your challenge.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, peering at the bed, a narrow wardrobe, and a crystalline window with open curiosity. “I’ll see you at dinner, then, my lord.” Was that the right honorific? Goddamned ambiguously medieval alien societies.

Utgardsloki nodded, apparently pleased, and left the room.

Tony let out a sigh of relief. He put down his case, fell back into the bed, where soft silk blankets covered it, and said, “We’re safe, guys.”

“To an extent,” Loki said, wry. “It is not wise to make bargains with a Jotun.”

“Probably not,” Tony admitted. “But what else could we do? Trust me. We can get out of this one.”

Odin fluttered to the end of the bed. Even he seemed worried. Tony scowled.

Thor said, “Brother, are we close to the portal?”

When their eyes met, Tony could still see the tension there. Loki averted his gaze and said, “Nearly. It was about several minutes away until the blizzard struck. And I believe that King Laufey’s fortress is at a close proximity to it as well--we’ll have to be careful. We’re almost there.”

“Thank you,” Thor said. He was trying to say _I forgive you_ as well, but Loki wasn’t having any of _that._

Tony shook his head silently, and decided to get the hell out of the room. He slipped into an adjoining washroom. He wanted to get himself cleaned up after days of neither bathing or changing--not probably the best of priorities, but he needed to do something normal now.

The water that came out of the wooden basin was cold, but he splashed it on his face anyway.

He looked at himself in the mirror, put on his best game face: he was Tony Stark. He opened the case beside him, checking to see that his suit was okay, and there it was, gleaming gold and red.

Which sounded better--death by Jotun or death by palladium?

He touched his suit. Loki and Thor called it _armor_ in their fancy accents which made him feel very knight-ish. Tony wanted to put it on now, do something stupid and reckless and forget that he was dying. Just fight that Utgardsloki fucker head-on. Just _fly_ and shoot missiles and _boom_ , destruction. Him and that fairy tale giant. Fe-fi-fo fum.

Loki had led him into that cave and showed him Afghanistan and his mortality again. Tony still couldn’t sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Once Stark left the room, Thor said, “Brother. We need to talk. About...” His voice trailed off, then picked up. “About what you believe of me.”

Loki was not facing his brother. His eyes were on Odin, and he wondered if his father would speak once again. If his presence was aware; if he would hear his sons. But he was an _eagle_ , absurd but closed off, and all that could Loki could do was turn around toward Thor.

“I--” Loki began, but Thor looked utterly _desolate_ , and somehow they ended up as an ungainly curl of animal pelts, golden and red, Thor’s nose buried in Loki’s neck. Shuddering.

They didn’t say anything, merely laid there against each other. Not for seconds, but for minutes, long and drawn-out, Thor’s bear heartbeat thudding loud in Loki’s ears.

Loki thought he could feel the sunlight of Ida on him.

“Get off me, Thor,” Loki said finally. “Please.”

Thor disentangled himself. “I am not the kingdom of Asgard,” he said. “I am not my weapon Mjolnir. I’m your brother, Loki.”

Loki was about to say, _I am your shadow_ , but then Utgardsloki knocked on the door.

 

* * *

 

Tony went down to dinner thinking, _I’m not scared_. Even though there wasn’t any real need for it, he still slung the casualty blanket around his shoulders as a cape, letting it flash in the torchlight. Just a touch of pizazz, so he felt like he was the right kind of archetypal fantasy hero that fit into all this Viking shit.

Loki and Thor trotted at his heels like noiseless shadows; Odin hovered above them.

The first thing Tony saw was the meal set out for them. Shining silver plates of salmon. Tankards of mead. Utgardsloki sat at the far end of the table; he boomed out, “Tony Stark! What do you think of my dwelling so far?”

Tony made himself grin. “It’s nice. Food looks good. I haven’t eaten anything decent during the past few days of traveling.”

While he spoke, he carefully took two plates. He set them on the ground for Loki, Thor, and Odin.

“Do not get drunk,” Loki said in an undertone as Tony knelt down.

“I know,” Tony muttered. He straightened, took a seat at the table.

There were more strained pleasantries exchanged during dinner, but mostly: silence. Tony ate the fish and washed it down with water instead, which he also offered to the three Norse gods. Thor was scarfing down whatever food Tony gave him left and right; Tony had to muffle a laugh whenever Thor looked up with those eager, questioning bear eyes of his.

When dinner was finished, Tony wiped his mouth on his sleeve--probably bad table etiquette, but who cares--and said, “Okay. Show me what you got, my lord.”

The frost giant rose from his seat and said, “The first trial is of magic.”

Loki stepped forward, inclined his head.

“He’ll go,” Tony said.

Utgardsloki put a hand out, and using his own body, he shaped an icy blade.

He crafted it with moisture, giving it spikes, a firm handle, and the weapon glittered in the hall’s torchlight like a jewel. The spikes hardened and the tips sharpened; it didn’t look like any real weapon Tony knew of, more of a sword plus mace combination, but it seemed definitely effective.

“Your turn, fox,” Utgardsloki said, waving his blade-arm toward Loki.

 _Don’t fuck this up_ , Tony wanted to say out loud. Loki only had elemental magic--which was what, water, fire, air, dirt, _fucking magnets, how did they work?_ \--and Tony crossed his fingers that he’d do his shit.

Loki closed his eyes, and the bowl of water at his paws froze. The ice climbed up in the air, moulding itself, and the shape of a staff formed. Lines of gold twisted along the staff’s body, the sound of them a whisper, and they propelled the staff forward.

The staff shot toward Utgardsloki’s weapon and shattered it. Loki’s eyes were glinting with amusement.

Shards of ice fell to Utgardsloki’s feet. The frost giant nodded, and said, “Well-made.” He said, “The second trial is of speed. A race.”

“Me,” Tony said, already reaching for his suit.

Thor prodded Tony with his paw--he was thinking of doing this challenge instead--but Tony shook his head, knelt down to say into Thor’s ears, “I got this one, teddy.”

He had said that he wanted to show Thor around Earth. Thor would probably have a blast in Vegas. But more importantly: space museums, all those lunar modules and astronaut gear and Hubble telescope pictures. Maybe drive from Malibu to the California Science Center. Rhodey could come along, too. And Pepper, if she ever decided to take a vacation...

God, he was ridiculous.

“Welcome, sir.”

Tony smiled into the HUD. “JARVIS. Long time no see. We’re going to be competing right now--it’s not a fight, but still intense. We gotta win."

JARVIS was already adjusting some parameters for him, calculating the suit’s power. The race was going to take place across the stronghold’s winding hallways--starting from the guest room Tony had been placed, and ending in the dining hall.

“I’ll call it off,” Tony said, with such an assholish smirk on his face that Utgardsloki glowered. His faceplate went down. “On your mark. Get set. _Go._ ”

Utgardsloki ran; Tony flew. He couldn’t deny that Utgardsloki was fast. The Jotun strode across the stone floors, surprisingly agile--his icy feet allowed him to practically rollerblade, gliding effortlessly.

Tony sped up. He imagined that the lines of the palladium poisoning on his chest were coiling, reaching out to his stomach and back.

No.

Utgardsloki was fast, but you know what? At the end of the day, technology _won_. Frost giants could get tired, after all, and Tony beat Utgardsloki by a minute, grinning that shit-faced grin of his when the Jotun finally crossed the finish line.

“Guess I win,” he said, nonchalant, leaning across the door to the dining hall. He’d already taken off his suit, blanket cape back on.

“That is intriguing armor,” Utgardsloki acknowledged. “You are a capable mortal, Stark. But let us see how well your familiar can compete with my strength.”

Thor curled his teeth into a sharp smile. He lurched forward right then and there, grappling his claws onto Utgardsloki’s shoulders.

 _Whoa_. _Go get him, buddy._

Utgardsloki crashed to the ground, his limbs thrashing. Thor bellowed, and something bright sparked from his paws. Utgardsloki screamed in pain.

The bear stepped off of Utgardsloki. He looked taken aback at what he had done, but pleased nevertheless. The hair at the end of his paws were standing up. _Like electricity_ , Tony thought. _Lightning._

With difficulty, Utgardsloki stood. His eyes were a narrow, inscrutable red. “The last trial is a wisdom-contest. The bird.”

Tony didn’t know if Odin was up for this, seeing as he had a identity freak-out earlier. “I can do it,” he said; his suit started to retract itself. He was a genius--he could handle a wisdom-contest, which sounded like a glorified elementary school test.

“No, Stark,” Odin said; Loki, Tony, and Thor whipped their heads backward to stare at him. “This trial is mine alone.”

“The bird is correct,” Utgardsloki said, “for you have already performed your challenge.” His mouth curved. “What are you called, bird?”

“Gagnrad,” Odin replied. Nearby, Thor coughed; Tony arched an eyebrow in confusion.

“‘Victory?’” Utgardsloki said, laughter in his voice. “I see.” He walked into the dining hall, sat in his chair, and gestured for Odin to perch on his goblet so that they were right in front of each other.

Odin better not have another breakdown--Tony could tell that Loki and Thor were pretty much thinking the same thing. Loki and Thor were settled onto their haunches, as if ready to simultaneously pounce.

He placed a hand on his case warily.

The contest began.


	4. mists of story drifting

The wisdom-contest was almost like a song. A song which bounced back and forth from Odin to Utgardsloki--a question, then an answer, a question, then an answer.

“What is the horse called who hauls forth Day for the heroic race?” Utgardsloki began, in his gruff clipped tones.

“Bright-Mane is he called,” Odin responded, and the contest went on.

Names were dropped that Tony didn’t recognize--Ice-Mane, Ifing, Surt. Vigrid, Ymir, Frost-Cold. Myth and legend weaving into each other, making Odin’s blue bird-eyes glow with history.

And then Odin asked: “What did Lord Odin see in this winterland many years ago, that was neither enemy, nor spoil of war, nor storm?”

This history was a different one. Tony raised his eyebrows. Now he was name dropping himself.

At the question, Utgardsloki said nothing. He finally said, “You alone know that, All-Father.”

Odin lifted his wings, casting a minute shadow over the frost giant. He cawed--a battle cry. Tony swore, scrambling to get his suit. He saw Loki and Thor leap to action, but Utgardsloki had already seized the eagle into his fist.

“I can choke him. Squeeze him to death,” Utgardsloki warned. “Easy, little ones. You, green-eyed fox, must be Loki. And you, blue-eyed bear, must be Thor.”

“Yes,” Thor snapped. “Let him go. We have passed your foolish trials.”

“You have,” Utgardsloki said, “but I did not realize who you all were. You have been cursed.”

“Obviously,” Loki said tightly. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord, but it is time for us to bid you farewell. Release my father and we will be on our way.”

Utgardsloki chuckled. “I am releasing no one, Liesmith. This is quite a catch. A catch made by I, Utgardsloki, strongest and slyest among the Jotnar. I imagine that there is a place for you three in my stronghold--my trophies. My _victory._ ”

Jesus Christ. Tony wanted the bash the frost giant’s face in; this was _not the fucking time_ to listen to annoying gloating. But Odin was ensconced snugly in Utgardsloki’s grip--he knew that Utgardsloki would easily carry out his threat.

“ _No!_ ” Thor growled, scraping his claws on Utgardsloki’s ankles.

But before he could attack any further, Loki caught Thor with his teeth, tugging him backward. “Oh, my stupid brother,” he murmured. “You never know when to stand down.”

Says the guy who sent frost giants to his own house, inadvertently causing an apocalypse.

But: “Listen to him,” Tony said. He let go of his case, which fell to the floor with a clatter. “We surrender, your highness. Don’t kill Odin.” He showed Utgardsloki his empty hands. “See?”

“We surrender,” Loki said.

Thor hesitated, but repeated the phrase as well.

So, true to the cliche, Utgardsloki locked them in his dungeons.

Which, of course, a) could not be broken down using force, b) were magic proof, c) didn’t have any large enough gaps in its bars or windows, and d) were lacking any workable materials like chains or handcuffs.

Goddamned ambiguously medieval alien societies.

Loki and Tony shared a cell; Thor and Odin were in the adjoining one. Thor was the first to attempt Option A, ramming and jumping against the walls and bars, futile but ferocious. His growling eventually died down to a muted whimper full of exhaustion. Then a sigh.

Tony stuck a finger through the bars, poked Thor on the fur. “Thanks, buddy, but I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Stark,” Thor said in reply, just a quiet reflection on his name, heavy and thick. “I am sorry for damning you to this unknown realm. I am sure that you have friends--family--back home, who are worrying for you. All the while their world is slowly dying. And you might die here with us.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tony said, shaking his head.

He tried not to think of Pepper’s smile. He tried not to think of laughing with Rhodey, making stupid jokes. He had to think of an escape--remember Afghanistan, remember being able to _build._ It wasn’t Thor’s fault; he had to think.

Thor said, “Loki is right. I do not think I will be the best of kings.”

Odin cawed, not a battle cry like earlier, but sharp disagreement. Loki stared steadfastly at the wall.

“He’s _wrong_ ,” Tony said. “Hey. Help me think, Berenstain Bear. What do we have here? What can we use to get the hell out?”

Tony Stark couldn’t have gotten out of that Afghanistan cave without Yinsen’s help.

They both went through the options. B, C, and D. Whenever Loki shut his eyes, held out a paw, nothing magic came out of it. Thor couldn’t muster lightening like he did earlier that evening. Odin couldn’t squeeze through any of the bars. And there was literally nothing in the cells either, not even benches--they sat on the cold stone floors, unchained, but utterly trapped.

In his jacket pockets, Tony found the pair of scissors and his blood toxicity monitor.

“Well,” he said. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried.”

“Show me,” Loki said abruptly, budging his furry redhead near Tony’s.

Using the scissors as a screwdriver, Tony removed the monitor’s back. He studied the wires and battery inside. “Do you think these bars could be susceptible to electricity?”

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “The metal is designed to withstand battering and magic--but as to a mortal force like electricity...maybe not.”

Tony nodded, mulling over the facts. The doors, Loki had explained earlier, had no locks. They would open at Utgardsloki’s behest or touch. It wouldn’t hurt to hook up the monitor to the bars to see if electricity would make them give.

“It’s not going to be enough power,” Tony realized. “We need--” Before he could have any second thoughts, Tony rolled up his shirt, yanked out his arc reactor. “This should be enough,” he said.

“Isn’t that--” Thor started. He paused, staring at the ugly lines on Tony’s skin.

Loki’s green eyes swept over the arc reactor and moved to Tony’s face.

“It’s fine,” Tony said with a smile. “Loki, you’ll need to let your brother and father get out of here, too. I’m probably not going to be conscious to do it, so watch closely.”

“You’re mad,” Loki said.

“That I am,” Tony agreed, and he smiled, just a twitch of his mouth. “Let’s do this, Loki. So, Odin, keep being wise and shit. And Thor, keep fighting the good fight--if this place was a democracy, I’d vote for you.”

“I am not going to say goodbye,” Thor said fiercely. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself on our behalf.” His paws rattled on the bars, a dull clunk-like sound. Almost pleading, he said, “Tony.”

 _I’m already dying_ , Tony didn’t say out loud. He gave a thumbs-up to Thor. His favorite wannabe alien astronaut.

Besides losing a lot of the energy powering his arc reactor, draining the core like this would also exacerbate his condition. Exposing his body further to the palladium. Tony was almost relieved that the blood toxicity monitor was otherwise preoccupied--the levels would climb and climb, and that was something he didn’t want to fucking see.

Loki’s eyes were grim, but Tony knew that he was smart enough to know his priorities. Namely, get the fuck out of here with his family, get his home back, save the realms.

Tony fiddled with the monitor’s wires and his arc reactor, cutting bits and bobs with the scissors, arranging the two for connection.

The electrical current was ready.

Tony pressed himself against the bars. He turned the monitor on, listened to the buzzing noise, and saw a burst of blue-yellow light. The door creaked open.

It _hurt;_ he staggered onto the stone floor outside of the cell, his vision clouding. His fingers shook, and with effort, he held out his arc reactor and monitor to Loki. “C’mon.”

Loki exited the cell and froze. “Utgardsloki,” he whispered, and Tony heard the footsteps echoing against the walls. Coming closer to the dungeons: boom, boom, boom.

“Run,” Thor said urgently. “ _Run._ ”

Tony said, “You and Odin--”

“There is no time,” Thor said. “Go. Please.”

“No.”

Loki clamped his mouth on the collar of Tony’s jacket. He was going to drag him out of there.

“No,” Tony repeated, attempting to shake Loki off, but he was too weak to have any effect.

“We will come back for them,” Loki said, through a mouthful of fabric. Then he spat out Tony’s jacket, turned to Thor, and said, “We will come back for you. Brother. Father. I swear it.”

The fox and the bear held each other’s gaze for a single second. Utgardsloki was approaching--much nearer now.

Loki once again closed his mouth over Tony’s jacket, and he _ran._

Tony blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki stumbled into a world of blue.

The blizzard had passed. He released Stark from his jaws. Closed his eyes, and he could feel the portal close by.

Stark was dying. Loki recalled the anathema on his chest. He couldn’t heal him, but now--closer to the portal and Asgard--he could sense the impending _death_ emanating off the mortal.

He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but that explained much about Stark’s behavior. It was almost mockable: a dying mortal trying to save the realms, racing against his own condition simultaneously.

This was the warrior they were placing their hopes on to help them fight.

Loki laughed, and he knew he remained as enamored as he was before.

He would fix this--for Thor, Odin, Frigga, and Stark.

Would his father see, then?

 

* * *

 

Tony dreamed.

Tony saw himself in a place where it wasn’t winter. The sky was clear, and it felt like a warm summer night--no wind, no chill. For some reason, Tony thought of the wisdom-contest between Odin and Utgardsloki, and he could sense the age and magic here, reverberating with the names they had spoken: Mundilferi, Delling, Wind-Cold.

He was in a forest. There was a pool of water--a pond--at his feet. Mouth dry, Tony knelt down, cupped his hands together, and tipped the water to his mouth. It tasted cool and fresh, and he inhaled, feeling at peace for the first time in ages.

Out of nowhere, a voice said, “What do you need to see?”

Tony started. “What?” Nobody in sight. As far as he knew, he was alone.

“You drank the water,” the voice said. “Look here, in the pool, mortal.”

The water shimmered: rippled, for a moment, and then suddenly it was like a computer screen, shining and smooth and visible.

Tony saw his father and mother, unbelievably young. Maria Stark was holding an infant in her arms, cooing, while Howard Stark watched with a smile.

Tony saw Obadiah Stane giving a five-year old boy a Christmas present, wearing a Santa Claus hat and beard the whole while.

Tony saw Ho Yinsen--he remembered this, the year was 1999, and he made fun of the guy’s name.

Tony saw Utgardsloki roaring at Thor, demanding _how did they escape, tell me_ , and Thor roared back, stepping in front of his father.

Tony saw a green-eyed man carve a portal into the air. From the other side, a blue arm emerged.

Tony saw Pepper working furiously on a computer screen--hacking Justin Hammer’s company, what the _fuck_ \--while an Iron Man clad Rhodey fought back to back with a red-haired woman. Rhodey and the woman were dodging an electric whip. Outside, snow was falling...

Tony saw a lone Jotun, smaller than Utgardsloki but still indomitable, sitting on a bright throne and looking out into the universe.

Tony saw himself, willing to die for the sake of dying, willing not to die because of _them_ , willing to die anyway for them when the time came.

Tony saw Howard Stark make a shield. The whole process of it--he was working with a strange kind of metal, designing and moulding and burning and testing--and then the scene switched to him looking into a video recorder, telling Tony: it’s his life work, it’s the key to the future...

“--I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world. What is, and always will be, my greatest creation...is _you._ ”

And then Tony woke up, feeling something moist tipped to his lips. “What--?” he spluttered.

He was in a strange room--not Utgardsloki’s stronghold, not the endless ice of Jotunheim, and not back home, either. The walls were painted yellow-orange. A fireplace crackled merrily in the corner. The bed he laid on was small, since his feet stuck out over the edge, and the room was similarly-sized as well. The roof was fairly low--and come to think of it, so was the hand that offered him the drink.

“Drink it,” Loki said, and Tony saw him climb up to the bed, so that Tony could see him. “It will stabilize your condition at the moment.”

Tony swallowed, letting the stranger beside him tilt the drink down his throat. The stuff tasted like tea, herbal yet watery, and it warmed his chest and stomach. A couple sips, and his vision cleared almost instantaneously, and Tony found the strength to speak.

“Where am I?” he said. “And who are you?”

“I am Ivaldi,” the stranger replied. He set the mug down on a wooden bedside table, pulling backward, and Tony realized that he was about four feet tall. “You are in Darkalfheim, home of the dwarves. Loki Odinson owes my family a debt, mortal. But that shall be dealt with later--I will leave you both to your conversation.”

“Thank you,” Loki said. Ivaldi bowed and left the room; Loki waited until the door was closed, started to speak, but Tony interrupted him.

“We left them,” Tony said suddenly, images of Yinsen and Pepper and Rhodey and Thor blurring in his mind. He thought of the man making a gap in thin air. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“No, that is not--”

“Oh, don’t lie to me, you goddamned fox,” Tony said. “You want your brother and daddy’s fucking kingdom and you want it _hard._ What was that crap back there? ‘ _Oh no, my magic broke, I can’t plug in the mortal’s arc reactor, I’m just going to ditch the scene like a coward--_ ’"

“ _I swore_ ,” Loki said vehemently. He slashed a claw across the bed sheets like an upset child, and then stared at the remains like he had done something terrible.

“You didn’t try,” Tony said with his eyes closed. “You saw your opportunity. Your brother was telling you himself to run because he thought you’d be safer that way, and so you took off, didn’t really look back. And I think we should’ve gone straight to Asgard, too. We didn’t need to take that Jotunheim detour, did we?”

Loki stared at him with steely eyes.

“That Jotun in Asgard can see us, no matter where we are,” Tony said.

His dream was coming back to him, merging, the pieces fitting together.

“That throne explanation was bullshit. Didn’t make sense, in retrospect. You claiming that the frost giant would notice us if we went directly to Asgard. You claiming that you were shielding us anyway with magic, magic that you said was confined only to controlling the elements. A-plus contradictions there. Lucky for you, Odin couldn’t see through the lies, either.”

Loki drew himself up, red fur blazing in the firelight. “How superior you act,” he said. “You saw through my deception, mortal, how clever you are. Do not pretend to understand _anything_ of this world or of me. I saved your life.”

“You did,” Tony said, “but Thor and Odin could be dead by now. Your own mother could be dead, but who cares about _her_ , right, it’s not like mothers can’t be replaced and sometimes they seem better than fathers, but who cares, you’re going to be king of nothing. Congratulations, Loki. Congratulations.”

Loki didn’t respond.

The cave of glow worms was in Tony’s mind. Mortality like a bullet to his heart, bullseye, and Tony was tired of this. He wanted Loki to _fuck off._ He was tired of everything being doomed. The world and his friends and his life. No fucking more. Even if Loki was quick-witted and clever and actually kind of hot in human form--Tony had had enough.

Tony shook; his face was pale. He was heading for unconsciousness once again. He had gotten too wound up, but he had said what had needed to be said. Good riddance.

When Tony came to, Loki was gone. He wasn’t surprised.

Tony told Ivaldi, “Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll--Loki. His debt. I’ll pay it.”

 

* * *

 

Loki fled across Darkalfheim, his paws blurring across the white snow. He did not know where he was heading. Just _away_ from the mortal whose pointed accusations were infuriating and presumptuous--but was _away_ toward his captured brother and father?

It was the same thought as always: _I do not know, I do not know._

He stopped running.

He was in a forest populated by half-dead trees and half-frozen creeks. Branches cracked underfoot. This land was so barren and so quiet, and it was likely that most animal life had been slaughtered by the snowfall.

Then: _black._

A black feather drifted downward, a single spot of color on white, and Loki caught it with his claws. He pierced it midway and couldn’t feel it through his fur, but he thought, _I know what this is._

“Harken, Odinson,” a raven said, his voice a scratchy whisper. “While I tell you of All-Father and his war deeds. Listen.”

“Muninn,” Loki named him, and the bird encircled him with his wings. Loki closed his eyes to the fall of feathers. “Where is your brother?”

The raven didn’t answer his question.

“What do you know of war?” he asked. “Of corpses?”

“We have followed Odin, ever since we crept out of egg,” Muninn said. “Eyes, mind, and memory for the One-Eye.”

“I know,” Loki said. “I know. He sent you.”

“He sent many things, trickster. He gave the mortal Mimir’s Well, and he gave you us.”

Loki’s eyes flew open. “What did Stark sacrifice?”

“It is not your price to pay, Odinson,” Muninn said.

“He is a mere mortal,” Loki said, and his tone was creeping into a growl. “Father should know not to offer such bargains. It is dangerous.”

Stark could simply lose his eye, yes, but there were many more things that he could lose in the barter. Fragments of life and love. His talent for smithing. His hands, his hearing, his voice.

There were so many things that Loki had bound himself to. The fate of the realms, the fate of his family, and this was just one more. Just one more--Stark with his cocky smile and resilience and intelligence, the sort of warrior and king that Loki wished to be.

“I will pay it for him,” Loki said. “I am Odinson, Muninn. Nothing in the realms should dare to refuse me, never mind a _well._ I will pay it.”

Muninn was silent, and then he dipped his head. “Very well,” he said.

Black, black.

Loki saw his father fighting Laufey during that old, old war. Odin was holding Gungnir aloft, his two wolves at his feet, and there were screams of pain ringing throughout the realm. Laufey was barely tangible--red eyes and a marked body--and no matter how hard Loki tried to make him out, he couldn’t.

The vision flickered.

Odin’s face was streaked with blood, his remaining eye an eggshell blue, and he whispered to the sky right before Laufey lunged at him. He drank, and he _knew._

He was Odin All-Father. He was not a man anew but the sum of his experiences.

In his youth, he was a wanderer who walked among men and elves and dwarves and giants. He wore a wide-brimmed hat to cover his face and a dark blue cloak on his back. There were two ravens at his shoulders. Loki could hear their cries; Loki could feel the warmth of a hearth on his face.

The lands Odin tread were wild and roadless, stretching from the sky and farther, and there were no limitations. Only _onward_. Only discovery and hospitality and adventure. Only magic.

“What is this?” Loki said, and he was breathless from it all.

“Your price,” Muninn said. His brother Huginn swooped down from above, landing on a deadened branch.

 

* * *

 

It was easy to put two and two together. Thor had said that dwarves made his hammer, and so these were his dwarves. Loki must have had them make it and didn’t pay up-front, and he’d left Tony here on purpose. To 1) have somebody conveniently free him of debt and 2) give Tony a place where there were plenty of inventing materials.

Tony wasn’t sure if he should be disgusted or grateful.

Hell, besides Loki’s vague motivations, Tony realized how much he was actually _buying_ into this magic-myth-deal.

His dream wasn’t some random hallucination. It was _real_ \--he couldn’t shake off the reality of what he had seen.

Howard Stark worked just like him. He had been alone in a workshop, bent over the metal he was working on, muttering to himself out loud. There was the way he held he held his tools, his familiarity with them. His hair was the same color as Tony’s, a shock of dark brown underneath a set of goggles, and the shield was a cool silver.

So Tony recreated his father’s element, as Ivaldi watched over his shoulder and showed him how runes worked.

Ivaldi’s forge was in no way the up-to-date workshop Tony had back home, but it was good enough, using magic as a substitute for technology. Tony couldn’t do magic himself, but Ivaldi and his two sons could, drawing circles on the ground, muttering incantations under their breaths. Tony directed them, trying to remember his dream the best he could.

He kept drinking Ivaldi’s magic potion every few minutes, the stress thrumming under his skin. He eventually brought up a sliver of grey, still warm, and looked at it.

“This is acceptable payment,” Ivaldi said, examining the sample. “I’ve never seen metal like this. What is it called?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony said. “My father made a shield out of this stuff for Captain America--one of Midgard’s warriors, is how you guys say it. I need some for myself, too.”

Ivaldi nodded. “You are dying.”

He said it simply, said the thing that Tony hadn’t said aloud to anyone.

“Not anymore,” Tony said, grinning, and deftly caught a hammer that Ivaldi’s son Brokk tossed him.

His mind lingered over the glimpses he’d got of Pepper and Rhodey. What the hell were they doing? Fighting...someone, apparently. They’d better get out of that mess he had seen them in. Didn’t look good--was it because of his tech? Senator Stern related? Or SHIELD related, since they had been poking at Tony to join their posse, but _amigo_ , this cowboy works alone?

He let out a breath, and considered one Loki Odinson instead.

After a few minutes of working, he said, “You’ve all been a big help. Collectively quieter than JARVIS, you know, but that’s a compliment. Tell me, though: what exactly did you do for Loki?”

“We made three things,” said Sindri, Ivaldi’s second son. His face was illuminated orange from the forge’s furnace; he glowed even brighter with pride. “A hammer, ship, and an arm ring. The hammer is strong, always returning to its owner, and holds command over storm. The ship can sail through land and sea both. The arm ring is a priceless bracelet, which can form eight bracelets every ninth nights, as gifts for heroes.”

“Loki gave the first to his brother and the last to his father, I believe,” Brokk said.

“I see,” Tony said.

He wondered what kind of son who gave his father presents, slept against him in animal form while thinking of his mother, told funny family stories--would do what Loki had done.

Tony grimaced, banished his thoughts of the god from his mind, returning to strike at the metal beneath his hammer.

It took hours, but they finished by evening.

Tony put the metal into his chest, marveling at what his dad had given him, and for just one moment he was in his Malibu Mansion. Basking in the excitement of a new creation, thinking what would come out of it, so many opportunities--he was _alive._

“I’ll be off soon,” Tony said, to the darkness of the forge. He drew his casualty blanket tighter around himself. “Now that you know how to make this stuff. Which way is the portal?”

“I will lead you, if you like,” Ivaldi said, donning a thick fur jacket. “And I believe you may need this.” And he attached a goddamned _sword_ to Tony’s waist.

He had no idea how to use swords, but Tony thanked Ivaldi, knowing that he needed something in lieu of his suit.

“You have fulfilled Loki’s debt and more,” Ivaldi told him gently.

Tony smiled, bowed, and told the old geezer about his Iron Man suit as they trekked through a snowy forest of Darkalfheim.

Ivaldi halted when they came upon a stretch of ground untouched by the ice. “I wish you good tidings, Stark,” he said.

“Yeah, you too. Make good use of the metal, okay?” Tony said. His eyes were already on the sky. “Beam me up, Heimdall. To Jotunheim.”

The rainbow descended, and this time Tony saw Heimdall. He was dressed in full-body armor. His hands were folded over a sword, and a golden dome spun and spun around them. The man inclined his head toward Tony--his eyes were a strange liquid gold--and Tony tried to say something to him, but his words were swallowed by the noise and the light and the chaos.

The dome opened, disappeared, and Tony was back in the icy wasteland of Jotunheim. In the distance, he could see Utgardsloki’s fortress rising up against the white world. Tony shivered, touched his jacket hood to pull it down lower over his forehead.

Ivaldi’s sword was a reassuring weight at his hip.

He missed Thor’s warm fur. The sharp wind bit his cheeks, but at least it wasn’t snowing any more.

Tony started forward into the night.

He was out of breath the time he reached the stronghold. He stood there for a few seconds, and then he was ready.

He was _alive._ He couldn’t see any stars beyond the thick clouds, and that was fine, he could breathe. There was mortality and then there was _mortality_ , and as far as Tony Stark was concerned, he was just about as immortal as you could get, never mind Norse gods or giants.

Tony knocked on the door and said, “It’s _my_ fucking turn to issue the challenge now.”

Utgardsloki’s reaction was almost comical. “You,” he said.

“Me,” Tony agreed. “We won, remember? But then you locked us up--that’s not playing fair _at all_ \--so I’m going to do what little kids do when there’s a tie. One more game. All or nothing. Tell me you’re not too much of a coward to back down from that, oh-strongest-and-slyest-giant-in-all-of-Jotunheim.”

“Oh, Stark? All by yourself? The trickster isn’t with you, I see.” Utgardsloki laughed, his body reverberating with amusement.

“No, he’s not,” Tony said. “Fight me. If I win, you let them--and me--go. If you win, then you have my word that we’ll serve you in any way you like. We won’t struggle or fight back. I’m a smith, so I can build weapons, anything. Thor and Odin will be easier to show off if they’re not biting you, you know.”

“You speak on their behalf?”

“They’re good people,” Tony said. “Oaths are important to them. I made a deal, and they’ll kept to it.”

Loki had said vehemently: _I swore_ , and it meant something to Thor.

“Let me have my case. That armor that I wore earlier.” Tony pointed vaguely behind him, remembering where he had last set it down. “We’re going to have an old-fashioned one-one-one.”

So Tony was back in the dining hall, the firelight on his face, and the suit assembling itself onto his skin. He hovered up onto a table, boots clacking as they landed. He calmly stared down Utgardsloki.

“The suit is accepting your new arc reactor, sir,” JARVIS said, bringing up a screen to show him. “It will need time to properly adjust.”

“All right. Let’s give him all we got,” Tony said.

He charged straight at the frost giant, who reared back, ice blooming all around him. Tony yelled a sharp command to JARVIS, making sure that his heating system was intact, and he wove around Utgardsloki’s darts of ice, dodging them seamlessly.

“Boosters off,” he ordered, and he caught onto Utgardsloki’s shoulders, grappling him. Tony hung there, his teeth gritted, waiting for the power to build up. Utgardsloki tried to shake him off, but Tony held on.

“Pathetic,” Utgardsloki spat.

Tony found himself face to face with ice daggers floating in the air, pointed straight at him.

“Shit,” he said. “JARVIS, hurry up!”

“Charging.”

The daggers converged, flew forward--

“Come _on_ \--”

Utgardsloki hesitated, then, and Tony saw him glancing downward. A flash of green.

JARVIS said, “Ready.”

The unibeam shot out of Tony’s chest, a burst of light, and knocked Utgardsloki squarely in the back. The ice daggers plummeted to the ground as Utgardsloki began to fall, and Tony got the hell out of the way.

“The bigger they are,” Tony said, as the giant _crashed._

“Very original of you, sir.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

And, speaking of annoying fuckers...Tony retracted his faceplate. “Loki?” he called into the room, almost a dare and almost a thank-you, but there was only silence.

Well, then. He had prisoners to free.


	5. alternate waves of sad peace and sad war

Tony prepared himself for something horrible--he didn’t know what, but his time in Afghanistan had a way of hanging onto him. His freaky dream had showed Utgardsloki looming over Thor and Odin, threatening them, and for all Tony knew, they could have been stabbed with icicles, one thousand times worse than Thor’s initial injury.

He shot open the dungeon door with a repulsor ray, and hey, look, not risking his life for this one. The door squeaked with protest but creaked open, and Thor bounded out, Odin on his back.

The first words out of the bear’s mouth were a delighted, “You are alive, Tony!”

They both were unhurt.

“I am,” Tony said, smiling. “Side-trip to Darkalfheim. I didn’t know vacations could do that. And you’re alive, too, Thor.”

“I am,” Thor said back. He gently bounced a paw off Tony’s glowing chest. “Those marks I had seen...Father believes they are ailing you. Are you...?”

“Nope. I fixed it.”

“My brother,” Thor started.

Tony frowned, and took his time removing his suit, putting it back in its case. “Loki,” he said finally, drawing out the name.

And he told him: their confrontation at Ivaldi’s house, and the spark he’d seen during his battle with Utgardsloki.

“So he came back for us after all,” Thor said, but his voice was sad.

Tony shrugged, as nonchalant as he could. But he knew he was invested in this drama to some extent, and he wondered about the limits of redemption, and he thought of those eyes in the cave. So what, Loki had tried to pull him out of a panic attack, and so what, he directed Tony to a place where he could live. Tony didn’t know what to make of him; Tony didn’t know if he should even try; Tony just wanted to use the life he’d got to save his friends and the goddamned world.

“Loki has fallen far,” Odin said, startling both of them.

“I do not fault him for taking Tony out of here, Father,” Thor said sharply. “He was saving his life, as he did earlier this evening. But...this talk of Loki purposely luring us into Jotunheim. Why?”

“Your brother is...unpredictable,” Odin replied. “At heart his intentions are well-meant, or he believes they are. I think it was a _test_ \--for you, especially, Thor and for himself.”

“He could’ve gotten us killed,” Tony said, shaking his head. “He’s got a bone to pick with you, Thor. I know all about this usurpation bullshit, alright, and they fail, they’re gone, in the end...”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Obadiah Stane, giving a Christmas present to a young boy. The thing about people like him--usurpers, to use that fancy word again--is that they lurked behind kings and/or queens, they were fucking vicious, and betrayal hurt like shit.

Essentially, _Lion King_ , but without any actual lions involved. Just humans, or foxes, bears, and eagles.

Tony cleared his throat, pushing down the realization that he was probably Timon or Pumbaa in this situation.

He probably should be taking this a little bit more seriously, but he was tired and his mind was going wonky and Tony Stark has never really had a proper seriousness filter.

“He has changed,” Thor said finally, closing the conversation at that. “We should rest before we leave. You must be exhausted from your battle and journey, Tony, and it is too dark to travel. But before that, we have one more thing to do.”

 

* * *

 

Loki had been setting the fires during their journey, but Tony set this one. He stood over Utgardsloki’s body, big and dead as ever, and the wooden tables and chair burnt around him as kindling. He had to fire at the tables a few times, but eventually, the flames leapt, devouring the giant. Well, more like slowly eating away at him--he was made of ice, after all.

It wasn’t a huge fire--just controlled, just flickering. Smoke drifted out of the open windows.

Tony sank down beside the water basins he had prepared when it was time to put the fire out, watching as the man-made pyre burned on.

He didn’t regret killing the guy. He thought that he should, but there was something hard in him that knew he had to, and he sighed and kept on watching. It was the least he could to.

Funny, that. His life had been on the line for so long, but when it came to his, what, his enemies’ lives, he couldn’t muster any sympathy. In January--when he’d discovered about the palladium poisoning--he’d targeted the rest of the Ten Rings, and he’d done a world of good for doing that. He was a hero then, like he was a hero now.

The former Merchant of Death wanted to hold onto his life and wanted to keep being a hero, and honestly, screw anybody who was in his way.

It was funny.

He hadn’t cried over Obie.

Tony barely noticed Thor sit beside him on the stone floor, brushing against Tony.

“Pookie bear,” Tony said, and he was still trying not to laugh. He gripped a hand onto Thor’s fur, knuckles almost turning white, and then let go. He said finally, “So this is a tradition. The cremation thing.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “It is a warrior’s respect. Honor.”

Then the bear added, “You may continue holding onto me, Tony. I do not mind.”

“No, it’s nothing,” Tony said. “I’m fine. I was thinking of something else.”

“Your usurper,” Thor said, and Tony started. “You said he was gone. Dead, I presume.”

“Yeah.”

“Was he close to you, as Loki is....” Thor didn’t finish the question, but Tony got the gist of it.

“He was a father to me,” Tony said. He didn’t say, _I thought he loved me more than my real dad._ He didn’t say, _I really did tell him I loved him once_ , just a little while after his parents died and he was drunk out of his mind and half-joking and Obie had been there.

Right there, always there. Longer than JARVIS and Rhodey and Pepper.

“Sorry,” Tony said, rubbing the side of his face, and then his hand was buried back into Thor’s side. “I’m being depressing. God, I don’t know, Loki might turn out okay after all, if he’s willing to be a good human being--good Aesir, whatever--for once. He’s got a pretty awesome family.”

Thor turned his blue eyes on Tony. “He thinks that we have belittled him. That I am not worthy.” He looked at Utgardsloki and said, “He thought that he was the strongest and slyest of them all.”

“So you’ve been stupid occasionally in your life,” Tony said. “So what? I’ve had my egotistic moments. You just gotta deal with,” he waved a dismissive hand, “everything, and trust that it’ll work out, and maybe your mom and dad could give you a nudge in the right direction. You don’t have a Pepper, but you’ve got parents.”

“A Pepper?” Thor said confusedly.

“It’s a human thing. A Tony Stark thing, to be more precise,” Tony said, and he smiled, and he thought of her--her chastisements and her smile and just _Pepper._ “I don’t think being king will be too hard.”

“Thank you,” Thor said, soft, and he was half-curled around Tony, world’s best healing blanket.

When he returned to his human form, Tony would miss this.

“We should have more cultural exchange time,” Tony said, changing the topic. “Bedtime story while the frost giant cooks. Tell me more about Viking god pyre beliefs.”

There was no Loki for this conversation, but that was okay. Thor’s stories were well-told, his voice rumbling yet clear, and he knew what he wanted to say. It was calming, and Tony thought he needed that right now--they both did.

“He belongs to death,” Thor said. “It is Odin’s law that he must burn. It needed to be done almost immediately, so he can return to the afterlife to his fellow warriors, still of the same standing.”

Tony took in the information with interest. He didn’t have any religious beliefs--he wasn’t the type--but here, where magic was real, he thought he could just listen to Thor. Maybe there was a grain of truth in some of his stuff, maybe there wasn’t. It didn’t matter.

He asked, “What happens if it isn’t done immediately? Does he go to hell or something?”

“Not Hel,” Thor said. “He would become a homeless soul. A ghost--a draugr. He would wander the realms ceaselessly.”

“Oh,” Tony said. “What’s so bad about wandering?”

“There is no rest,” Thor said. “It is a cursed and lonely fate. Odin wandered once, offering kindness and wisdom every turn, but he eventually settled as king and as father.”

And his voice drew pictures--Odin with know-it-all sayings that he told people he met, Odin with a cloak that shimmered like stars, Odin being the _Spirit_ that Thor had named him as. Tony found it hard to imagine Odin as anything other than an eagle, but he thought that he could--blue eyes and gold hair and awe-inspiring--and thought that he could get why Loki would be overcompensating.

He could get why Loki looked at him desperately when he mentioned his own dad--you know the story, his son, expectations, love--but he didn’t think that it justified anything.

He laid back against Thor, looked at the fire, and said, “I’m going to put this out now. We should sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Loki stayed to the shadows of Utgardsloki’s stronghold, his tread noiseless. He could smell the fire. Of course they were following old custom, using this fire made from Stark’s unnatural armor, and he drew the warmth in with a breath, wondering if he could come closer.

“Loki.”

The eagle was perched on a torch in the hallway. The orange light flared on his gold wings. For a mere moment, he looked like a tapestry that Frigga could have woven; he looked rather like a metaphor and a symbol rather than a cursed king. Loki was thrown for a moment, and then he held Odin’s bright blue eye with a firm gaze.

He would have ran away, but he stood his ground.

“My so-called _test_ ,” Loki said. “It wasn’t really for me or for Thor. It was for you.”

Before Odin could respond, Loki barked, an explosion of half-laughter. “Do you think that you’re the only one who can play a long game, Father? Mimir’s Well, Muninn, Huginn--what has all this been to you? A jest? A mockery of war and death?”

“I do not jest,” Odin said quietly. “What have you become, my son?”

“I am a fox,” Loki said. “I am the embodiment of trickery and lies.”

“Don’t be facetious, Loki.” Odin’s voice was loud and strong, the shriek of a bird beneath his words, and oh, he was wholly himself this time. Wholly himself and blazing--father of all, king of all. “Let me ask you. The boy who led his enemies into his realm at the risk of his family. The boy who led his family into his enemies’ realm at the risk of all. What does he want?”

So many years.

“I am no _child!”_ Loki said, and it was a shriek, a scream, without balance or reason. No, there were plenty of reasons. “I want _more_. I want this to _stop._ I am nothing; I know I am nothing. You are looking at me _wrong_ \--I need, I want--”

Foxes do not cry. They make pitiful, whining noises like the sound of mice.

Odin’s single eagle eye was closed.

Loki swallowed back another sound, another whimper. “I don’t want to hurt you, Father. Or Mother, or Thor.”

“Then you are still the Loki I know,” Odin said, nearly a whisper. “But what else do I know of you? You plot, and spin lies, and draw from strong magic. You keep much to yourself and often stay alone. You suit power, and power suits you.

“I sent my ravens to give you the seed of wisdom that I once gave mortals, but still rings true to Aesir: _Men die, cattle die, you yourself must die one day. There is only one thing that will not die--the name, good or bad, that you have made for yourself._ That name is Odinson.”

Muninn and Huginn had told him no such thing.

Loki shook his head.

\--and he _realized._

This wasn’t about Thor after all. This was Loki, how he pilfered about Stark to find kinship, grasping for a bond, and he had found it, but not quite.

He said, “I am not you, Father.”

So many years, but now he felt the weight slackening. It still remained, but he had seen the flaw in both of them, and he knew that his father did not loathe him and was not ashamed of him.

“I am not you,” he whispered. “I am Odinson and I love you, but I am Loki.”

Odin looked broken. One blue eye half-open.

Loki beckoned his father down from the torch. “Come sit with me, Father. I believe that it is time for rest.”

 

* * *

 

Tony nearly tripped over the snoozing forms of Loki and Odin, both on the stone cold ground sharing fur space and feather space.

Thor was still sleeping in the dining hall beside the ashes of Utgardsloki’s body, and Tony was just trying to find a kitchen somewhere.

“Um,” he said, and Loki shifted in his sleep, blinking very green eyes at Tony’s direction. He didn’t want to deal with this so early in the morning. “Arguments after breakfast, please.”

“It’s that way,” Loki said. He flicked his tail toward his left. “I’ll lead you there, if you like.”

“Are you pretending that your bullshit didn’t happen?” Tony said abruptly, not budging yet. “‘Cause this sounds an awful lot like pretending that your bullshit didn’t happen.”

The fox disentangled himself from Odin. His jaws were pulled into a sharp-toothed yawn, and then he slowly met Tony’s gaze. He said to Tony, “I offer no apologies, Stark. But at the moment, my father and I are at peace. We will resume our journey.”

“Good to know,” Tony said. “But how about you and me? And you and Thor? Can’t quite sweep all of this under the rug, Loki.”

“No clever nicknames?” Loki said archly.

“I think I’ve run out.”

“Is the arrogant mortal admitting unintelligence?”

“What--okay, seriously, this isn’t preschool,” Tony said. “Start walking to where the food is, and on the way, we can talk this out. Like adults.”

He tugged a hand in his unbrushed hair--Jotnar didn’t have hair, so no combs in the stronghold--and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Loki began walking, and Tony kept up with his pace.

Tony sighed. “What the hell are we going to do with you?” It wasn’t the best conversation opener, but probably accurate enough.

“Trust me,” Loki said, showing a glimmer of teeth.

He laughed. “And that’s going to go down well?”

He knows: _you don’t just do that._ He was going to have an Obie situation on his hands again. He had faith in Thor, but Loki? Loki was a whole different kettle of fish. He seemed like he did give a crap sometimes, but other times he was just floundering about for his own gain.

Sure, he made grand declarations about his family. And he probably did mean them, sort of. But Loki fucked people over.

Tony didn’t want to trust that kind of person when his own life was on the line. When Pepper and Rhodey and Thor and _everyone’s_ lives were.

Loki, to Tony’s surprise, nodded. “Then you needn’t trust me. Watch me, Stark. Have your armor at the ready. Use me.”

Tony was thrown for one second, and then he got it. “Because of your handy magic, you mean.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “You’ll need me to find the portal and to fight.”

“Right. Okay,” Tony said, considering that. And he found himself _agreeing,_ albeit reluctantly, but he was an inventor and he knew what to do with resources. “As your traveling companion, I’m going to have to ask you for something.”

“Name your price.” Loki showed his teeth, something self-deprecating there.

Tony thought, _There’s more promises and deals involved here than a fucking elementary school. Pinkie swears and garbage._

“Talk your shit out with Thor,” he said bluntly. “Brief family therapy. I’m not talking about a five hour reconciliation thing--just go, make ‘peace’ like you supposedly did with your dad, and I’ll throw together breakfast.”

Loki’s pace slowed. “Fine, Stark,” he said. “I will.”

He turned and went.

Which left Tony alone to shuffle through cupboards, wondering if he had done the right thing. If he was being a _hero_ about this, giving Loki a second chance or whatever it was. If he had doomed Thor and Odin alongside him--because come on, Tony was sort of team leader here, he had some responsibility.

 _Team leader,_ Tony thought.

Well, this team leader here thought about dying in the preceding days. This team leader here had been tying himself in fucking knots thinking of his father and Obadiah Stane. This team leader here had to save the world and the people he loves almost single handedly.

You just found your humanity yesterday, and now you’re wondering about your superhumanity.

 

* * *

 

Thor was still asleep.

Loki stopped to watch him. A big bear heaving deep breaths of sleep. Loki was seized with a muted fondness, remembering when he used to startle his brother awake in the mornings, when they were young children. Snoring, ridiculous, predictable Thor.

He tapped a paw on Thor’s flank. “Wake, brother.”

“Not again, Loki,” Thor muttered.

“Yes, again,” Loki said. “Get up, you oaf.”

“Loki,” Thor said, and he sprang away, panic in his eyes. “ _Loki._ ”

“I’m here to settle our quarrel,” he said. “To travel and fight beside you once again.”

Thor was stumbling with drowsiness, but he was taking in Loki’s words, eyes narrowed. “Quarrel?” he said. “That is a strange way to put it, brother. What happened was no childish spat, but a...a _feud._ You’ve been harboring resentment, long and bitter.”

Thor’s words were littered with resignation.

“A feud,” Loki repeated, and he wasn’t sure whether he said so in agreement or otherwise. His brother was seldom very hostile as he was now. Loki did not begrudge him of his anger.

“Father and Stark have permitted me to rejoin our little band of warriors,” Loki said calmly. “Stark, however, requested that we work out our _feud_ , as you call it.”

Thor was silent. Loki was unsettled. He waited for Thor to rail at him, to growl, to say _something._ But it was just his blue eyes on Loki, full of thought and misery.

“Oh, brother,” Loki whispered, both wistful and vindictive at once, “what happened to the day when we fell against each other in understanding?”

“Because I do not understand you,” Thor said quietly. “What do you want, Loki?”

And _oh_ , he sounded so much like Odin when he said it.

And Loki still did not know how to answer, not properly.

He simply said, “I will not go back on my promises. I will salvage the realms from their impending destruction. And I will not turn on my family. Is that good enough for you, Thor?”

“That is the most you can say,” Thor said, his voice raised in disbelief. “You do not say sorry, and you do not mention Mother. I have been so _blind._ ”

Loki bristled, hackles raised, his tail swaying behind him. Thor was just _basking_ in his delusional moral superiority. Imperious future king. It still stung. Nothing had changed.

He snapped, “ _Is that good enough?_ ”

“I have been so blind,” Thor said again, shaking his head. “It is good enough for you, apparently.”

Loki scoffed. “So our feud is settled.”

“As well as it can be,” Thor said, his voice rough, and he turned away.

 

* * *

 

Tony came back from the kitchen, bearing bread, water, and fish. And contrary to his lofty reconciliation ideas...Loki wound up eating breakfast separately with Odin, leaving Tony with a brooding Thor. So it hadn’t gone down well after all. Surprise, surprise.

“You okay?” he said, pouring a pitcher of water into a bowl, and sliding it toward Thor.

Thor lapped the water up, delaying his answer for several seconds. When he was finished drinking, he said, “Yes. I think.”

“He’s insufferable, isn’t he?” Tony said. He knew all too well how Loki avoided the subject at hand, not copping up to what he did wrong. Of course he’d been cruel to his brother, if not crueler. Tony had been the one who asked Loki to confront Thor in the first place…he felt a stab of guilt.

Zero points to Tony Stark, team leader.

“Yes,” Thor said, his eyes shut. “I don’t wish to speak of him. Can you please just...talk, Stark.”

“That’s my specialty,” Tony said ruefully. He offered Thor a fish. “We’re going to have to leave soon, so I’ll have to rein it in. How about some more space talk?”

“I’d like that, Stark,” Thor said. “Your science is very intriguing.”

“I can connect all this to your realms, you know,” Tony said, settling against Thor’s side comfortably. “We’ve been theorizing about these babies for decades, Thor. Different planets and aliens--there’s a crazy cultural fascination over how you guys might look like. If you lived on Mars. Or if you were green and flew in saucer-shaped ships.

“Turns out, we didn’t get too much right. But I went to a conference once--where there’s scientists from everywhere, with all these theories--and there was this astrophysicist, Doctor Foster. And Doctor Foster, who was probably one of the youngest scientists in the room, right? She talked about _wormholes_ , straight out of a science fiction novel. Einstein-Rosen Bridges. I think she actually nailed the Bifrost…”

 

* * *

 

When they finally left Utgardsloki’s stronghold, Jotunheim was covered in a thin sheet of fog. Loki surveyed the land cautiously, scenting the air for any Jotun, and then began to lead them toward the portal.

He was confident, carrying his father’s trust, perhaps his brother’s despite their argument, and as close as he could get with Stark. His goal was firm in his mind, and he moved with purpose. With freedom, because his burdens were slowly unloosening and they would triumph. Stark was alive; his brother and his father were free.

His goal was merely for _now_ , for the moment.

He led Thor, Odin, and Stark, a curious collection of color against the blue--fur and feather and cloak--across the ice.

Stark was riding Thor once again, saying something against the flat fur of his ears. They had become close comrades--Thor shook with laughter--and Loki would be longing for that rapport with Stark if he hadn’t realized how futile and pathetic he had been.

Loki walked and walked.

The mist thickened.

There was something strange about it. A taint of magic mixed into its whorls and mass.

Loki tried to detect the core of the sorcery--there was a center somewhere, there had to be--but he couldn’t quite pin it down. The energy was _gnarled_ , shifting...yet somehow familiar.

There something something _deep_ in the mist.

And it layered upon itself. A barrier.

They all halted their walk. Odin alighted upon Loki’s back.

“What the hell?” Stark said.

“I can’t see,” Loki murmured. He could barely make out their surroundings; Thor and Stark were almost completely shrouded in mist. There had been fog earlier, but not as bad as this.

“No, duh,” Stark said, but Loki could hear the frown in his voice.

“It’s magic, isn’t it, brother?” Thor said.

“It is,” Loki said. He put a firelit paw forward, sparks on his claws. “Let me see…”

There was a sharp, sudden pain in his throat as the air he breathed constricted his lungs. He let out a yelp of shock, extinguishing the flame, exclaiming, “ _Poison_.”

Loki found air again, the constriction lifted. He exhaled slowly, looking down at his paw.

“The air is poisoned. Deadly,” he said grimly. “It won’t let me use magic. Stark, can you attempt to use light from your armor?”

“Already on it.” Stark’s movements were noisy, the sound of metal, but then the mortal broke out into a violent cough. “Oh _shit_ , seriously? Fuck. That hurts.” He was still gasping.

“Breathe, Tony,” Thor said quietly.

Loki heard a thump of as Thor deposited Stark onto the ground into a more comfortable position. Stark’s shoes brushed against his tail, and Loki withdrew it, briefly irritated. But now, at least, Stark was breathing normally.

“ _Come out_ ,” Thor shouted, surging forward blindly. “Come out, you coward, whoever you are. Show your face, Jotun or sorcerer or whomever you may be.”

“I can’t sense where the portal is,” Loki said, cutting into Thor’s dramatics.

“Someone wants us stuck, then,” Stark said. “Lost and magic-less and suit-less. Got any ideas?”

“It could be anyone,” Loki said, shaking his head. “But I thought I recognized the magic. A former enemy of ours, Thor?”

“Perhaps. I do not know.”

“Father?” he tried, but Odin was unresponsive. His eyes were blank and empty--he was yet again at war with his animal self, half-asleep. Unlike Utgardsloki’s contest, they had to brave this one out alone.

Loki closed his eyes. They needed to find the portal; they needed to get back to Asgard as soon as possible. _Leave_ , he bid the mist. _Leave._ But he knew that it wasn’t that simple.

He took the magic within him, a kindling blaze of green, and let it dance. The center.

“You,” he said

“ _Brunnmigi_ ,” the wind said into his ears, coiling around him. Loki snarled, lunged, but the attack was already upon them.

A woman materialized in midair, grappling onto the now-sleeping eagle on his back. Her hair was jet black and she was clothed in pure white; her mouth shaped a howl as she held Odin down.

Loki crumpled under her weight. He was trapped underneath his father and the woman, but it was no woman. She was a mare, a manifestation of his father’s dreams, most definitely sent by the voice in the mist.

He started a spell, but the air was choking him again, he couldn’t breathe--

\--the mare’s influence was bleeding through, and he could taste the fear and see the darkness behind his eyelids, bidding him to paralysis, to _sleep--_

 _\--_ a nightmare--

He screamed for his brother.

But Thor was being strangled by the mist, too, and so was Stark--he could hear their cries. There was no help. There was no rescue.

Clawing and scratching and biting, Loki succumbed.

 

* * *

 

Loki dreamed.

Loki saw himself in a room of color. He was reminded of the Bifrost, but it was shadowed and ominous here. Rivulets of scarlet and emerald and sapphire and on dashed around him, melding into the walls like an amorphous waterfall.

He was in his true body. He had been on the ground on his hands and legs, but he pulled himself upward, easily slipping from animal to Aesir.

“I am here,” he said, turning in a slow circle, trying to find the presence here. “You wanted me here, did you not?”

“I did,” said a voice.

Loki spun around, but the voice was everywhere, echoing. He couldn’t find its owner. The colors were moving more erratically now.

“You used the power of Odin to defy one of my bargains, Liesmith.”

“The ravens have put the price into my hands,” Loki said steadily. “Yes. The bargain is settled. Leave us be, Rememberer. O Wise One,” he said, the flattery quirking his lips, and oh, it felt nice to smile without fangs, smooth and utterly _Liesmith._

“Bargains are not so easily transferred,” the voice replied. “Even as a friend and advisor of Odin, I know very well that he is Oathbreaker. As are you.”

“I am his son,” Loki agreed. “But this matter is over--I will pay later. There are more pressing concerns than your precious bargain, Mimir. Farewell.”

“No. Apocalypses and battles are the realms’ eternal constants, dear Liesmith. Bargains are not. They are passing promises that must be sealed. And one man’s price is not the same as another’s.”

What a naive fool.

“You whisk my consciousness away. Into this body, and _here,_ under a root of Yggdrasil where powerful magic emanates,” Loki said, nearly bursting with laughter. “I can _crush_ your poor head, Mimir. Do not defy Odin, and do not defy Odinson.”

“ _Brunnmigi_ ,” Mimir hissed once again.

“Fox. Well-pisser. I am indeed.”

Loki collapsed the dream with a wave of his hand.


	6. and then the scintillating ions

Loki jolted awake in his fox body, still brimming at the edges with magic.

The air was clear of mist. He could now see the ice, blue as ever, while the portal called to him at a distance. Hopefully he had sealed Mimir under Yggdrasil long enough, so that he wouldn’t bother them again. Loki would’ve killed the feeble thing if Mimir hadn’t been a companion of his father’s.

Odin and Thor were unconscious, a bear and eagle lying prone.

The mare was on Stark, curled around his chest. Stark’s head was lolled onto the ground, his eyes black and lifeless with terror. Caught.

Her knees were on his stomach, and she gripped his shoulders, polluting him, dirtying him.

Loki decided to kill this one.

He brought to mind a charm he had heard in Midgard, and he built upon the remnants of Yggdrasil's magics. Then he _sprang--_

She didn’t notice him, too distracted with Stark.

He tore at her with his claws, and she shrieked as he raked across her white-clothed back, green sinking past the fabric and into her skin. She did not bleed, but leaked inky black mist.

“No nightmare shall plague me,” he intoned, the words flying past his lips as fast as he could phrase them. “Until they have swum through all the waters that flow upon the earth.”

The mare was dissipating under his paws. The brown was back in Stark’s eyes, his fingers twitching, and Loki growled, shredding the creature into white fabric and pieces of dark hair and black smoke.

“And counted all stars,” Loki spat, “that appear in the skies.”

She was gone.

 

* * *

 

Tony dreamed that he had a hole in his chest where his arc reactor should be, and JARVIS spoke to him in a garbled monotone, and Pepper had _left_ \--

She was saying, _Sorry, Tony, but I’ve had enough of this. I have to go._ Her blue eyes were bright with tears, and she didn’t even kiss him goodbye, which was ridiculous, they hadn’t been dating or anything but he _wanted_ to so badly he thought he would be sick.

“Pepper, Pepper, Pepper,” he said quickly, as if he could keep her by his side just by saying her name.

But his voice was drowned out by a roar of snow. Snow crashing down, down, down, mountains and mountains of it, and he was buried and cold and alone. As alone and stifled as he was after the bomb had blown up, the shards in his chest, and his body splayed across the desert sand.

“-- _skies_ ,” he heard someone say, and Tony found reality again. He was pulling himself out of the sand and snow, slogging through the heaviness.

“Pepper,” Tony whispered, his voice like rough sandpaper. As if he could keep her by his side just by saying her name.

But he wasn’t back in Malibu or Stark Tower--he was in Jotunheim, not even on Earth. _This_ was his fucked up reality now.

Tony blinked; the ice didn’t go away no matter how many times he blinked. “What happened?” he managed, his eyes finally finding the fox beside him.

“She was a mare, Stark,” Loki said. “A nightmare.”

“I’ve had some pretty intense nightmares before, but generally they never take the form of monster chicks,” Tony said. He twitched a hand, then another, and the sensations were satisfying. That mare thing had given him hallucinations, frozen him in place--paralysis….

Tony’s mouth turned down into a frown.

Loki shook his head. “The mare came here through my father’s dreams, and then she attached onto you.”

“Any particular reason?” Tony asked. “Like you said earlier. Old enemy. Trespass-angry Jotun--wait, hold on, are Thor and Odin okay?”

“They’re fine,” Loki said. “The mist took their breath away, but they will recover in a few moments. I still lack the magic to heal--I used whatever energy I had left to banish the mare.” He gestured his tail toward the bear and eagle.

Tony let out an internal breath of relief--he could see Thor’s hairy chest rising and falling. Silence dragged on for a few moments, and he said, “So. Did you figure out what was behind the fog and the mare? Definitely not a coincidence.”

Shortly, Loki said, “Mimir.”

“Who?”

“You drank from his well, Stark, do you not remember?”

“Well?” Tony said, but suddenly he flashbacked to the stream in his dream, and the disembodied voice asking him what he wanted to see. “That guy….did I piss him off or something? We really didn’t need all _this_ to happen. Christ, and you had to go save my life again, too.”

“You are most welcome,” Loki said, baring his teeth, and Tony rolled his eyes. No matter what happened, he didn’t trust the asshole.

Tony’s thoughts were racing, however. “So he didn’t like that I used his crystal ball puddle. It was right there, and actually helped me out…"

“Not quite,” Loki replied. “There was a bargaining. The asker must pay for the well’s wisdom. And the price was not paid.”

So this was a debt situation. _I-sold-you-something-now-where’s-my-money-goddammit_ scenario. Basic economics. Good job, billionaire Tony Stark, but it wasn’t like Mimir had explicitly said anything about a price. And Tony had been worrying about other things that weren’t mythological-ish trade-offs.

“So what do I do to get the freaky loan shark off my back?” Tony said. “Pay up? Or did you already make him go away?”

“I trapped him under Yggdrasil,” Loki said.

Tony paused, and said, “That’s not good business.”

“Well,” Loki said, “he’s not going to be interfering any longer, so you needn’t concern yourself with this, Stark.”

“I’m surprised you just didn’t make me pay up. It would’ve been easier that way.” Tony was relieved, yeah, that Loki got rid of the guy--Mimir had sent the fog and mare after all--but this seriously could have been handled smoother.

“It is not wise to make bargains with a Jotun,” Loki reminded him. “There is such thing as taking too much in return. He took my father’s eye, but it could have been so much more, such as retroactively taking your life.”

“The asker person can’t decide their own payment,” Tony said. “Okay, he’s _literally_ bad business. Does anyone actually come to him of their own accord? Because that’s a bad deal. That’s a rigged deal.”

“And that is why I sealed him,” Loki concurred, which made Tony’s eyebrows raise, because honestly, with his luck, Mimir would eventually break out and seek out his unfair payment. “I--” Loki stopped mid-sentence.

Tony had jinxed it.

There was a sketchy ball of light hanging in the air. It glowed blue, and looked like a mini-comet, and couldn’t have been an obvious magic thing if it was labeled _THIS IS FREAKY-ASS WIZARDRY THAT WILL_ ~~ _PROBABLY_~~ _DEFINITELY HARM YOU._

“Ah,” Loki said, and let out a strangled noise that gave Tony goosebumps. “That’s not possible. He’s still imprisoned--I can sense him--but this is _his_.”

And he walked forward, as if pulled by the light.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s first instinct was to grab Loki’s fur, hissing, “ _What the fuck_ , are you crazy?”

“Ghost fire,” Loki said. “It’s drawing me in.” His paws dug into the icy ground; his eyes were closed tightly. “You’ll have to hold me back, Stark. Mimir wants to--” Loki was struggling, “--pull me close to the fire, let it swallow me. Bringing me to Yggdrasil to release him.”

“Tug of war,” Tony said with a shaky laugh. “Got it.”

He wished he had time to snatch up his suit, so he could have a more reinforced grip, but Loki was still trying to run out to the light, and Tony had to throw his whole body weight onto him. Winding his arms around a red torso, doing the best he could to ignore Loki’s wriggling.

“Oh God,” he said, his teeth grit together. He was no Hercules--Loki was fucking _strong_ , despite his wiry animal frame--and he bore the brunt of thrashing claws. “Sheath those damn things, moron.”

“I’m not a cat,” Loki snarled. “I can only partially retract them.”

Well, excuse him for not researching foxes.

“I hate you,” Tony muttered; his casualty blanket and jacket were now covered with scratches. “I will kill you if you make me bleed--”

“Shut _up--”_

Tony shut up, for once, redoubling his efforts. His fingers were starting to hurt, folded around Loki’s underbelly, and he could swear that Loki was going to actually injure him soon.

“Ghost fire doesn’t last long,” Loki said, his words an almost indistinct pant. “Hold on.”

And somehow, Loki curled into Tony’s chest, Tony’s fingers moving to squeeze Loki’s scruff in a half-chokehold. The fox was a lump of frizzy red, trembling with tension. His tail was wagging like it belonged to an over enthusiastic dog, and Tony kept his eyes on the ball of light, which was starting to fade with each passing second.

_Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off._

And yeah, after a minute, the light did fuck off, a blue spark guttering into nothing.

With an exhausted groan, Tony released Loki’s neck. “Finally,” he said, his limbs going loose, and he was stretched spread eagled on the ground. “That was….an experience.”

“You were choking me,” Loki gasped. He fell over--melodramatically, Tony thought--onto the ground, lying there like a run-over squirrel.

“You are most welcome,” Tony quoted.

Loki looked at him like he was insane, and then broke into unhinged fox bark-y laughter.

It wasn’t funny, but Tony laughed, too.

 

* * *

 

By the time Odin and Thor had come to, Loki and Stark were crowding around a small fire. The day was nearly over--Mimir had immensely impeded their journey--and they would have to wait until morning to set out. They hadn’t been speaking over the fire, merely a contemplative silence, and eventually Stark slumped into a doze.

Loki’s eyes passed over the mortal, but eventually settled on the night sky.

“Brother,” he said, when he heard Thor settle at his side. “You have recovered?”

“Yes,” Thor said. Odin was on his back, peering owlishly at him. “Father said the name _Mimir_ when he awoke. Tony’’s bargain…”

“Unpaid,” Loki replied. “I was able to temporarily imprison Mimir, however.”

“That isn’t wise,” Thor said. “Loki, you know that he’ll escape. You have gone against the old laws.”

“I know. But since when did you abide by laws, brother?”

His fierce, hotheaded brother oftentimes disobeyed Odin, off on his own quests with his friends, after all.

“I will be _king_ ,” Thor said heatedly, but his fervor died almost immediately. Something he must have seen in Loki’s eyes. “I...I did not mean to wound you. But I _will._ ”

 _Will_ was a whisper.

“I know,” Loki said again, shutting his eyes so Thor wouldn’t see them. “Stark can pay his debt after we win Asgard. We do not need him fighting a battle lacking his armor or his leg or somesuch necessity. It was I who...delayed payment so that wouldn’t happen. Father’s ravens helped me, although he did not intend them to do so.”

Thor was quiet, but after a heartbeat, he nodded. “As much as I do not wish for Tony to lose too much, Loki, he cannot run away from Mimir forever. We will make sure he pays.”

“All right,” Loki said.

Their fur coats were brushing against each other. Thor’s silence seemed to say _I heard you calling for me when you were scared_ , and Loki didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t speak.

There was an oasis of lies and half-truths and unspoken truths within Loki. He didn’t know whom or what he wanted to protect, or if he wanted to _protect_ in the first place, because there was something in him that said that it wasn’t in his nature.

He thought, and breathed, and he was terrified of what he owed Mimir.

Freedom. He would take the role that Odin had rightfully deserted so long ago, no better than a restless draugr, and that was no sort of royalty at all.

But what would be left for him otherwise?

 

* * *

 

They finally reached the portal without complication the next morning. Which is to say, they rushed this time, collectively anxious after wasting an entire _day_ due to Mimir. Tony had gobbled down food he had saved from Utgardsloki’s stronghold at lightning speed--he was still hungry now, but really, they didn’t need to spend any more time on Jotunheim.

“Heimdall, take us to Asgard,” Thor said, when they alighted on the portal.

They were swept up into the dazzling rainbow, blinding and brilliant. The dome gyrated at a speed that Tony could swear was faster than light--he really wished he could do some calculations--and then slowed.

Tony exchanged an awkward nod with Heimdall. Were there even gold contacts on Earth? Those eyes made Heimdall look daunting as hell.

The dome opened.

“Home,” Thor said, somber, and if Tony had thought that Utgardsloki’s stronghold was an architectural feat, Asgard was really something. Grand and silver-gold and bright, but much of it was obscured in snow, because winter had come here, too.

Far off, a palace shone like a beacon. There it was--their final destination. And Tony thought that his tower was eye-catching...well, get a load of _this._ The palace spires seemingly curved into the bulging clouds, up to maybe where the sun hid.

“The cold is accelerating,” Loki said, his mouth open like he was tasting the air. “Not much longer now.”

“We’ve gotta hurry,” Tony urged, but Thor looked dead on his feet. He was wobbling. Their breakneck journey through Jotunheim hadn’t done him any favors.

Loki noticed Thor’s weariness as well. “We’ll have to stop here, for a moment.”

There was a flash of gratitude on Thor’s face, mingled with surprise. It almost made Tony chuckle. So were they all getting along or something now?

Tony slid off of Thor’s back, and settled right there on the ground--on the end of the rainbow bridge, where a sliver of a roof extended overhead. Thor sat beside him, his neck craned to look directly at the distant palace, and he kept staring at it as if it was going to disappear.

“Food,” Tony told him, with a sigh, sticking a fish under the bear’s nose. “And some for you two, Loki. America.” He slung another fish in the air, which Odin snatched with his beak. “Nice catch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Loki said, rejecting Tony’s offering. “I’d like to...prepare, instead.”

Tony bit through a piece of bread. “Yeah?”

“I’m focusing my magic,” Loki told him. “Now that we’re in Asgard. I expect that Thor’s own strength is improving, too.” Then he prodded his paw at the sword at Tony’s waist. “The dwarves gave you this, did they not?”

Tony slid it from its place, presented it to the fox. “They did. But swordsmanship isn’t exactly a common thing back on Earth. It’s pretty much useless to me.” He swept a cursory glance over the thing. “It looks durable, though. Iron blade. I think bone--no, ivory grip.”

“Iron for Iron Man,” Loki said. “Very fitting.”

“It’s dead weight,” Tony said, shaking his head. Thankfully, he held back his _but it’s not iron_ spiel. “I thought I’d hold onto the sword because of Ivaldi, but otherwise...useless.”

Loki looked at the sword thoughtfully. “Give it to me, then. I will find some use to it--dwarf-made swords are quite conducive to magic.”

“Have at it,” Tony said with a shrug, wondering how the hell Loki would wield the sword using his _paws._ He leaned over, about to strap it to Loki’s back.

Suddenly, Thor interrupted, “No, let Tony name it first. It is his right.”

Tony said, “What?”

“You do not know?” Thor asked. “I suppose things have change on Midgard, but swords are prized to warriors. They are heirlooms to be passed down through generations. They are given names, just as my hammer was named Mjolnir.”

“I see,” Tony said. He was balancing the sword between his hands, one hand on the grip and the other on the flat of the blade. He saw his reflection in the clear metal--haggard face, and damn, he looked half beaten down, a fraction of how he'd been after emerging from that Afghanistan cave.

But, okay, back on track--the sword was impressive, but this was _stupid_ because he didn’t know a word of Old Norse.

“Your language will suffice,” Loki said, reading Tony’s thoughts on his face.

“You’re seriously trusting me with names?” he said uncomfortably. “I’ve got robots named Butterfingers and Dummy. You’re free to do this ceremonial stuff yourself. It is your culture, or whatever--I don’t mean any disrespect.”

Loki said, “Name it, Stark,” and Thor nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” Tony said. “Uh. I’ve always got a pop culture reference for everything, right? Well, there’s this fictional guy who randomly got himself handed a sword-thing, and he had to go save the galaxy, too. Obviously with a bit of help--not animals, but there was this furry Wookiee guy.”

“Stark...”

“I’m getting there,” Tony said, baring the tip of the sword Loki’s way. “His name was Luke. That’s a sucky name for a sword, so let’s go with his last name. Skywalker. Is that mythical enough?”

Loki looked at Tony, bewilderment flashing in his eyes.

“What? Did I say something weird?”

Thor said gently, “That is one of my brother’s kennings, Tony. That sword is indeed meant to be from you to him.”

Tony blinked. “Kenning?”

“Another name,” Thor explained. “You have heard him being addressed as Liesmith. Skywalker is among his many titles as well.”

“You have the same nickname as Darth Vader’s family surname?” Tony said, almost laughing his ass off. “That is the _weirdest_ coincidence. C’mon, Thor, stop looking at me like that was destined. It was just something I picked from movies, of all things.”

Loki said, and he sounded more amused than anything, “Iron for Iron Man; Skywalker for Skywalker. Oh, now that is _interesting._ ”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Just take your sword, young Jedi.”

 

* * *

 

Break time was over. Tony was astride Thor’s back once again. Thor seemed to walk easier without the sword there, which Loki was bearing without any complaint.

Tony, Thor, Odin, and Loki cast shadows on the stone-paved paths of Asgard, quiet all the while.

Emotional whiplash at its finest.

Tony listened for the tell-tale signs of a city. A babble of voices, people busily going about from place to place, or just _something_.

“I can’t hear anyone,” he said.

“They know what is wrought upon the realms,” Thor said. “We must hurry.”

 _Hurry, hurry_ , the last word echoed into the empty street.

Something about the silence brought back Tony’s nightmare--cold and noiseless--but he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t buried. Pepper was out there, alive, somewhere. And so was Rhodey. And so was everyone else on Earth and outside it.

 _C’mon,_ he told himself. _You just compared yourself to Luke Skywalker. You’ve got yourself a rebel alliance that could probably put Nick Fury’s government team to shame. A badass bear, a magic fox (with a sword, look!), and an owl king dude. And that’s not disappointing--we’re_ awesome.

When they reached the palace gate, there was a dead frost giant at their feet.

He was pierced through with a spear. He wasn’t bleeding red, but ice pooled around him in a melting puddle. Tony thought of Utgardsloki.

Thor approached the Jotun, examined the spear, and said, “Sif. One of my friends, a warrior maiden.”

“Maybe she was able to stop them,” Tony said hopefully. He skirted around the water. There wasn’t time for proper funeral rite for this one, but...maybe later, Tony thought.

This planet had a weird way of getting to him, and he just rolled with it. Tony Stark: genius, playboy, philanthropist. Tony Stark: warrior, smith, friend of gods, recipient of dwarf swords and supernatural dreams.

“Perhaps she did,” Loki said.

They rushed further down the hall.

There was a second frost giant, and he was alive.

 

* * *

 

Loki struck first, because he wished to. Because he planned to.

He covered himself in a surge of flame, bright with light, and his fox-mouth smiled when the Jotun shied a step back. The heat didn’t burn Loki, merely felt _wrong_ as it always did, that innate sense that he had always carried.

But that was no matter now--he let the sword on his back nurse the flames, the metal glowing with magic--and he sprang.

“Prince Fox,” the Jotun hissed.

The flames licked the Jotun’s legs, and Loki wove through his limbs. He made sure to keep the giant’s attention centered solely on him, pushing him away from Stark, Thor, and Odin. Loki wanted first kill, first blood, first _scream_ ; he knew he had Odin in his bones, boiling and berserker-like, and oh, did he _want._ It was one of the first times he felt so internally animalistic, and he embraced it, encouraged it--

“Shouldn’t we help...?” he heard Stark say, readying his armor.

“No,” Thor replied. “Loki has claimed him.”

His brother knew him so well.

He used the fire as phantom hands, hefting the sword off his back and into the air. Skywalker was an extension of his magic, like a spear that receded and fell at his command. Loki drew cuts across the Jotun’s skin, snapping off sections of ice. The Jotun roared; Loki traced fire through the wounds so they wouldn’t heal over.

This Jotun was a weak one. He was serving as guard, not as an invader or pillager, and Loki wondered what the third Jotun, the leader, had thought to achieve bringing along this one. There did not seem to be a takeover in motion…

His thoughts were broken when the Jotun crashed into a kneeling position, his legs giving out from Loki’s fire.

He dragged the sword against the giant’s shoulders, encouraging guttural groans and useless writhing.

“Brute,” Loki said gently, “did you kill her?”

The Jotun stammered, “W-Who?”

“The queen Frigga.”

The giant was still, and then he slowly shook his head.

“I believe you,” Loki said, and swept the burning sword across the giant’s throat.

It did not kill him, at first. The ice healed the indentation over, making the Jotun’s throat whole, only for Loki to strike at it again. And once again. And once again. The giant howled.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Stark said, with a wince. “Just…”

“Finish him,” Thor said. “Brother, you accuse me of taking battles too far...warriors do not torture like this. This is--this is _shameful_.”

“Wait,” Loki said, turning back to look at them, his flames still burning. “Listen to the your sword’s work, Tony Stark. Skywalker. It is very adept at channeling magic. Do you not wish vengeance on they who brought upon the world’s end?”

“if I wanted that, then I would’ve stabbed you with that sword before I handed it to you,” Stark said sharply. “You who brought upon the world’s end. Calm the hell down. Are you losing it?”

“Losing what?”

“Your mind,” Stark said.

“I am not mad,” Loki said, but he bowed, and with that gesture, the fire melted away the giant’s throat. His flames dimmed, coaxing the sword onto his back once again. “There. I apologize for dallying.”

“Loki,” Odin rasped, exactly the same moment when Thor said, “Brother,” in a whisper.

Loki was not ashamed. He had expected that they would know better. This was warfare, after all.

Stark, however, was so obviously _repulsed_ , his jaw set in a firm line, and his face the same as it had been back in the cave. Dark and haunted and restless. Oh, what a warrior. Loki lowered his eyes to the palace floor, breathing for a moment, and said, “Come now. We must keep moving.”

And they went; Loki ignored the press of his brother’s nose on his fur, the brush of a feather from his father. There were no reassuring touches from Stark.

This was the halls of Loki’s childhood, deserted and noiseless, and he counted the rooms they passed, the steps they took.

Then he felt it.

Familiar magic, warm and wonderful, and Loki felt alight with the presence. He thought of winter cloaks and kisses to his forehead. He thought of a gentle hand guiding him--stand like this, Loki, when you fight. Hold your dagger like this. Use your magic like this.

_My brave, brave son._

“Frigga?” Odin called, his bird voice hoarse and rough. “Frigga.” He soared further on. Then he stopped.

Loki’s mouth opened, shaped the silent word _Mother._

 

* * *

 

Tony rounded the corner, and nearly collided into five blocks of ice. Five blocks of _people_ , to be accurate--Thor’s friends plus his mother--all encapsulated in ice like they were popsicles.

He stared at a blond woman in a dress who was clutching a sword, her expression twisted in anger. Blue eyes. Seems like Thor got them from both of his parents.

Pepper’s eyes were...

Thor let out a soft, helpless animal whine.

“Are they still alive?” Tony breathed. “I can get into my suit. Try and melt them down, maybe.”

One of Odin’s talons brushed against Tony’s shoulders: no.

“It is the work of the Casket of Ancient Winters,” Odin said. “It is magic, mortal, and you might harm them in an attempt of freedom. We must retrieve the Casket.”

“I,” Loki started, shook his head. “Father is right. I can’t free her--them--either.”

“Magic cryogenics doubling as a prison,” Tony said quietly. “Who would’ve thought.”

Hysterically, Tony reflected, _This is what I get for making a Star Wars reference. Goddamned Han Solo._

On the more rational side, Tony thought that he would’ve liked backup--especially considering that those warriors had taken out a frost giant already--but at least they were alive. At least they were alive.

“It’s okay if we leave them here, then?” Tony asked, glancing anxiously around for any more Jotun. “They won’t melt? They won’t come out brain dead?”

“They should be fine in the meantime,” Loki murmured. He put a paw on the ice, and Tony saw Frigga’s chest, rising and falling. “It’s merely a stasis.”

“How dare they,” Thor said. He wasn’t roaring or growling, just speaking in an undertone. “This is our home, our realm.”

Thor named his mother and his friends: Frigga, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif. He was a king, like Tony had reminded him in Utgardsloki’s stronghold, and he drew them together with his hard voice. There was something surprised and bright in Odin’s eyes, and Tony found himself thinking: _I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look at me like that._

No, that wasn’t true.

In that weird well-sent dream, he knew that his father had loved him. That didn’t mean that Howard Stark wasn’t a shit dad, but it meant _something_.

There would always be a counterpoint, to borrow one of his mother’s musical words--a Yinsen to smile at him in Afghanistan, a hug with Obie, a joke to share with Loki--and everything didn’t have to be perfect. Tony wasn’t an ideal or a savior, but he could do shit. That was all that this came down to.

Tony Stark: alive.

He turned to Thor. “You said there were three Jotnar,” Tony said. “So there’s one left now. Just one.”

Tony put on his suit, the faceplate not yet on. Thinking, he said, “Thor, give me your lightning mojo. My suit could do with a boost.”

“Of course,” Thor said. “I’m more powerful here, let me...” He touched his nose on Tony’s arc reactor, and Tony _lit up_ with energy, vibrating with it, battery quintupled.

It was enough. More than enough, even.

“You’ll be strong,” Thor said, and if he was human he’d be smiling. Jesus, what a sentimental softy...but Tony trusted him, too.

The woman and the warriors in the ice. Tony’s people at home. The dwarves who’d taken him in. They were fighting for _everyone._

Tony glanced down at Loki, who’d been on fire, who’d use flames to hold a (their) sword named Skywalker, and said, “Don’t get carried away this time. We need to be thinking sanely now that we’re up against the ringleader.”

“I do not need to listen to your condescension, Stark,” Loki said. But he was obviously calmer now, resolve in his stance, and maybe, Tony thought--though Loki wouldn’t admit it at loud--awed by his brother.

"The Jotun is in the throne room," Loki went on. "Lidskjalf."

 _And the butler is in the parlor with the candlestick_ , Tony thought sardonically, in spite of himself. But he nodded, remembering his dream.


	7. and then the stars

They burst into the throne room.

Tony first saw a glowing blue cube on the arm of the bright throne. The Casket. Shades of blue swirled inside of it, churning with light.

The Jotun stood at the sight of them, and she--for the giant was a she--said, “Welcome home,” with a smile on her lips.

She was definitely the Jotun Tony had seen in his psychedelic dream. Her skin was riddled with icy spikes, protruding on nearly every stretch of skin, and when she walked forward, the spikes clinked to make a sort of music.

She had cheekbones that were sharp when she sneered, which she was doing now.

“Nál, wife of Laufey,” Odin said.

She smiled even wider.

Laufey, as in Jotunheim’s king?

 _So this was the queen_ , Tony thought, and his faceplate slid down. He made sure JARVIS was on alert. He knew she could use magic and was damn good at it, if you went by the weather and the animal-fied Norse gods. He didn’t know what form it would take--Utgardsloki’s manipulation of ice, or Loki’s Avatar skills, or...whatever the hell Mimir could do.

He remembered what he was saying earlier, about people who seized thrones, and fought down his rising voice.

“Give it up,” Tony said, the words coming out harsh and metallic through his helmet. Fury would be proud; he sounded like a SHIELD agent. Professional. “We’ve got you cornered, ice cube hedgehog.” Or maybe not.

Nál turned to him. “And who are you supposed to be, mortal?”

“You know who I am,” Tony shot back, and for once this wasn’t in the context of fame. “I’ve heard that you could spy on us with that throne. That one with an unpronounceable name.”

“Ah. Man of Iron,” she said, in pretend recognition. “I wonder if Mimir will take your head. Or perhaps the head of his captor--my kindly host. The elusive trickster.”

“So be it, then,” Loki said. “But first, you will fall.”

“Change of heart, Liesmith?”

He replied, “Change of loyalty.”

Tony wondered how much of what Loki said was true. It sounded like Norse myth tough talk, and frankly, Tony didn’t have the patience for banter.

“What’s your angle, Sonic?” Tony said. “This is the lamest coup d'état I’ve ever seen. Or maybe my expectations are too high. Either Admiral Ackbar’s going to pop up now-- _it’s a trap_ ; you’ve got an army under your quills--or we’re going to defeat you just like that.” One of his gauntlet-wearing hands mimed a finger snap.

“Stark is correct. We will win. Leave,” Thor told her, suddenly speaking, that boldness in his eyes once again. “Lift your curses, my lady. Free those imprisoned. You violated the treaty.”

“Do not presume authority over me, little bear prince,” Nál said. “It was your coronation I interrupted, after all. I am not your lady. I have your mother.”

Thor snarled, and Odin looked like the eagle he had transformed into, a bird of prey. And Loki was still, but Tony could feel the heat brimming from him, that previous summoning of god-made fire hands.

“Is this a hostage situation?” Tony said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not going fucking get whatever you want--”

“It is not.”

“Is this a _game?_ ” Odin said. “You have hurt and threatened what is mine.” His feathers flapped forcefully, bringing up a gust of air.

“Yours,” she said calmly. “Not quite.”

“ _No,_ ” Odin said.

What the hell was going on? Was Nál a jilted lover or something? Forbidden love on the other side of the battlefield?

Tony tensed. He waited for Nál to make the first move. To demonstrate her magic so he could see what he was up against. But she just kept on talking.

Her sneer becoming more pronounced, she said, “Imagine my puzzlement, Allfather, when I see eyes from one side of a portal. I thought--I thought: they’re the wrong color.”

_What did Lord Odin see in this winterland many years ago that was neither enemy, nor spoil of war, nor storm?_

Loki said, “What are you--”

Before Tony could act, the queen waved her hand. Tony, Thor, and Odin were thrown to the ground by a flash of green, but Tony saw--

\---the color of Loki’s fur was changing. It was blue, pure cold ice, the color of the Jotunheim landscape. And his eyes weren’t green anymore. They were red.

Loki still remained a fox, but he was a Jotun.

Tony started, drew back his faceplate to get a clearer glimpse.

“What did you do to him?” Thor said, a thin whisper of disbelief. But that, Tony realized with a sinking feeling--this was what he got for making _Star Wars_ references _\--_ wasn’t the right question at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki did not feel a shock of cold.

He was still in his wretched fox form, but he changed, shifted. It was not another curse--it was _returning_ , although he hadn’t been aware of that self _._ Returning into mark-etched skin and eyes like blood.

“I’m not,” he said.

He found Odin’s blue-eyed gaze. Held it, for he knew that was the only sight he could bear at the moment, not Nál, who in his peripheral vision mouthed, _my son_ , her face contorted in a strange awe.

Loki struggled to call upon fire to yield Skywalker, but it was useless. He was a Jotun. He was the son of Laufey and Nál.

The ice arose instead, plumes of cold that crumpled to the ground.

Odin cawed, then, and they were covered in _black._

A curtain of dark feathers closed around Loki, Odin, Thor, and Stark, but it was focused on Loki. He could feel his father’s magic probing toward him, blanketing him. He gasped, and lost himself to the cloud, and he felt warmer. There was the sound of fluttering wings--not his father, but Muninn and Huginn.

The images were printed there for him. Set across a canvas of feathers. Memory and thought weaving and alternating.

Loki saw:

 _His very existence is sacrifice._ A body left in a temple. It was not evil intention; it was not malice; it was and is the way of Yggdrasil.

And Odin saved Loki. What was he to do, after seeing a babe crying in the cold amongst a war torn kingdom?

Odin saw-- _sees_ \--destiny and kingship in this one, akin to his golden haired boy in the cradle. The golden haired boy who later took the dark haired one into his arms, whispering, _Brother._

And there is something familiar in Laufeyson's eyes that he cannot place.

Odin had lost his eye for revelation. He had tied himself to the realms to become a guiding force of nature. He knew what sacrifices were. He put the babe into his arms, taking care not to smear blood across him, and stumbled into a world of blue--

The feathers parted, and Loki could see through the black more easily.

“Father,” Loki said into the space that the ravens had left behind.

He wanted to fall.

Thor’s nose was on his neck, pressing and pressing, and he was saying, “Oh, my brother. Brother...”

“You lied,” Loki said hollowly, wrenching away from Thor. “Would you have never told me?”

“I thought it would hurt you. I thought I would break you,” Odin said. He was on Loki’s back, his breath in his ears. “My proud, proud son.”

“I am not your son.”

Solemnly, Odin said, “You are. We are very much the same.”

Loki had denied so before, but he knew there still a truth in that. Liars, the both of them. He bit back a bitter laugh. His family was a web of hatred and jealousy and twisted perception. They had loved him, cared for him, and that was the cruelest thing that had ever been done to him.

(Hatred? His mother had placed blades in her Jotun boy’s hands. His father had told stories of greatness to his Jotun boy, making him wish and want and dream. His brother had held hands with his Jotun brother as they ran from trouble-- _faster, faster_ \--)

He dug his claws into the ground.

Loki said, “I will go. I shall leave Asgard.”

“What?” Thor said. He had been staring at their father, angry and confused, but now he turned to Loki. “Loki, you will be my advisor. I need you. I cannot be king alone--we need you. Mother--”

Loki shook his head.

“I am Loki,” he told his father. “I am not a wise teacher or hero or warrior or guardian. I am the snow and the wind. I am a liar and I am chaos and my kingdom awaits me.”

Odin said, “What are you--”

“Mimir,” Loki answered. “As payment for Stark. I am no longer a prince, but a wanderer.”

He was following a will-o’-the-wisp of his own volition. It was fine. He was fine. He had a mantle of godhood to don, and new trails to carve across the realms.

 

* * *

 

Tony fought his way through the drifting feathers, which were thick and glowing with magic. His faceplate was down now, and he had JARVIS scan for Nál by heat signature. Or to be more accurate, lack of a heat signature.

And he found her.

He reached out, caught Nál by the arm and said, “You can leave now.”

“Mortal,” she called him, and Tony realized how much her voice resembled Loki’s, something about the pitch, something about the intonation.

“You’ve gotta go now,” Tony said. “I don’t think this is going to be a neat family reunion, your highness.” He tightened his grip on her forearm. “Stop your fancy wizardry causing all these goddamned problems, or I’m going to blast you with my repulsors. Which will give you some nasty burns, by the way. My power’s been increased five times thanks to Thor. Do you want to tempt me?”

“He is not family,” Nál said. “I merely wanted to see. To test the boy.”

“Jesus, you’re family, all right,” Tony muttered; Loki had ill-advisedly ‘tested’ Thor, after all. He kept his hands steady. “Now. Seriously--go. Do you need me to count or something?”

Nál shot him a scorching glare, but her expression subsided into weariness. She glanced toward the wall of feathers around them, where Loki was, somewhere, and said finally, “I will go.”

The room was enveloped in snaking lines of green. Overtaking the feathers. Knocking out Loki, Thor, and Odin. Twining around the Casket. Creeping out toward the hallway where the ice block prisons were.

He methodically put away his armor, first, setting it back in his case.

Secondly, Tony found a window, shrugged aside a large red curtain, and saw that the sun was starting to come out. It was going to be a warm day.

Safe. Everyone was safe.

Nál had disappeared.

Loki was the first to get up. Probably because he had magic, and he wasn’t on his way to the Odinsleep, whatever that was.

He was the man that Tony had seen in his dream.

“Stark,” Loki said tiredly, apparently having overheard Tony’s conversation, “it is sorcery, for the second time.”

But his eyes were on his hands--the paws had turned blue--and Tony felt a stirring feeling in his chest, and realized he was _sorry_ for Loki.

“Well,” Tony said, “at least I’m being consistent.”

Loki laughed. It was nothing like his fox bark of laughter. “The realms are saved, Anthony Stark.”

There was an unspoken: _what about me? what’s left for me?_

“I heard what you said to Odin and Thor,” Tony said, after a beat. “I guess I should thank you for paying my debt for me. So...thanks.”

 _There is no rest_ , Thor had said of his father.

Loki didn’t reply. He walked to the window, like Tony had done earlier, and then drew back the curtain. The sun streamed in, and he closed his eyes to the light, maybe startled by the brightness or the warmth or both. When he turned back to look at Tony, he was smiling.

“You are most welcome, Stark,” he said.

Tony grinned at him.

Loki said, “I’ll take you home.”

 _Pepper_ , Tony thought.

He suddenly felt all the exhaustion catch up to him. Days and days of rushing and worrying and fighting.

He followed Loki to the Bifrost.

 

* * *

 

Thor visited two months later, as an inter-realm ambassador or protector. Or something like that. He showed up on the doorstep of Tony’s Malibu house first, though, that big blond lug, and Tony lit up immediately when he saw him.

“How have you been, Tony?” Thor asked.

“Good,” Tony said, although that was a bit of an understatement.

In two months, he had helped clean up the aftermath of the Justin Hammer and Ivan Vanko problem, which Pepper, Rhodey, and the SHIELD agent Natasha Romanoff had pretty much solved themselves, since _Tony, you ass, you weren’t there._ (In Rhodey’s words, that is.) Then Tony had fessed up to nearly dying, feeling so goddamned guilty, and then he launched into the tale of his Fantasy Alien Norse God Travel Extravaganza of 2010.

To his relief, Pepper and Rhodey had believed him. Romanov, however, had just looked at him, and Tony knew right then that SHIELD was going to be bothering him.

But not anymore--he had a Norse god to throw at them now.

He invited Thor in for drinks, and they talked--Tony about the Hammer-Vanko incident, Thor about his new duties since he was crowned.

“I can introduce you to SHIELD,” Tony said. “They might prod at you, but I think you’re their jurisdiction. To make alliances and stuff, if you want Earth to sorta know about your existence.”

Then he asked, “How’s Loki?”

And Thor smiled, and told him.

Loki was a traveller, a wanderer of the realms. There were stories of him in Muspelheim, duelling fire Jotnar for treasure. There were stories of him in Hel, treating the young Hella herself like she was a daughter of his. There were stories of him sailing the seas on his ship Naglfar.

He’d stop by to see his family in Asgard, but not for long--for he could never stay in one place too long--and he was off on a quest once again.

“He is doing well,” Thor finished, pretty much bursting with pride.

Tony clapped him on his back, and thought about that long adventure in the snow.

The next day, he called up Coulson, and idly mentioned The Avengers Intiative.  It was a cool name for a band.  A band that he wouldn't mind joining.

Though, continuing the metaphor, Tony better be that motherfucker with the guitar doing the rocking solos and shit.

 

* * *

 

One night Loki will visit Tony, a blue cape billowing behind him. He has Skywalker on his waist and two ravens at his back. His mind is full, brimming with journeys and constellations of distant worlds.

“Want a drink?” Tony will ask him.

“Yes,” Loki will say. He’ll sit down, smile, and look through the window, where it is snowing outside.  “Thank you, Stark. I’d like that very much.” 

 

* * *

 

 “How?” asked the eagle.

“Magic,” said Odd, and he smiled, and thought, _If magic means letting things do what they wanted to do, or be what they wanted to be…_

- _Odd and the Frost Giants_ , Neil Gaiman.

 

 


End file.
